


Twice

by DarkCaustic, Elendrien



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Caretaking, Civil War AU, Deathfic, Disability, Established Relationship, Execution, Hurt/Comfort, Incontinence, M/M, Prison, Suicide, The Trial of Bucky Barnes, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 52,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCaustic/pseuds/DarkCaustic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendrien/pseuds/Elendrien
Summary: Steve and Bucky escape Romania only for German Special Forces to catch up with them in neighboring Serbia. They manage to make another frantic escape, but this time, Bucky is shot in the back. He’s left injured and in constant pain, forcing Steve to bring him to a safehouse in the States, in the hopes that Doctor Cho will be able to help Bucky. But of course, not long after their arrival, they are discovered and Bucky is arrested for the crimes he was forced to commit while under HYDRA’s control.Even with the serum and aid from Doctor Cho, Bucky does not heal fully and is left with limited mobility and in chronic pain. Steve trades his freedom and formally resigns as Captain America to be allowed into Bucky’s prison cell to care for him while Bucky is on trial for murder and treason. He assures Bucky that there is no possible way the jury could find Bucky guilty. Bucky was a prisoner of war and the jury will understand that. At least, that’s what Steve tells himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Working on this piece has been a long labor of love and I hope you like it but also, please, heed the tags.
> 
> Art is by the lovely and talented Elendrien. You can check out the rest of her work and her other RBB fic on her [tumblr.](https://elendrien.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, many thanks to my beta [ Tipsy_Kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty) who was very patient with me when this fic ended up being quite a bit longer than I had anticipated.

_“I know that love is like ghosts,_  
_And what ain’t living can never really die.”_  
_-“Love Like Ghosts” – Lord Huron_

_“We've read_  
_the back of the book, we know what's going to happen._  
_The fields burned, the land destroyed, the lovers left_  
_broken in the brown dirt. And then it's gone.”  
-“Snow and Dirty Rain” – Richard Siken_

 

 XxX

 

They decide to spend the night on the floor of an abandoned apartment in Belgrade. Steve stretches out in the corner, tucked beneath the windows, and pulls the wool blanket out of his pack, looking at Bucky expectantly. Bucky just nods and lies down beside him, letting Steve pull the blanket up over both of them. They lay stiff, side-by-side on the wooden floor, their breath the only sound in the room. After a moment, their shared heat warms the air around them and Steve finally feels like he can sleep.

He’s half a breath away from the peaceful shores of slumber when Bucky rolls over and tucks himself in close to Steve, his nose pressed against Steve’s neck and his hand curled gently over Steve’s hip.

And it’s perfect. It’s been so long since they’ve tangled together like this and Steve just wants to soak up the sensation. For a moment, he feels like they are kids again, asleep on the floor of Bucky’s bedroom in high school or on the hard mattress of the bed in their flat in 1940. If he fell asleep right now, he wouldn’t know the difference between the present and that distant, blissful past.

Of course, that is when Bucky breaks the spell. His voice is low and warm in the darkness as he asks, “Do you remember the farm girl?”

Steve’s mouth goes slightly dry at the memory those words drag up. Part of him is shocked that _Bucky_ can remember the farm girl after everything. Part of him remains in disbelief that, even after all this time, he knows exactly what Bucky is referencing.

 

XxX

 

The wet, cold spring of ’44 – just a few months before Bucky’s untimely demise – had sent them into Italy.

The commandos had come across a small handful of German troops holding a farmstead in northern Italy.

A farmstead in northern Italy wasn’t the biggest priority for American forces but the Howlies took issue with any Nazi being anywhere and made it their personal mission to take back that farmstead.

It took them the better part of two hours – there weren’t many troops left – but their officer, an invertebrate of a man – had taken the young woman who lived on the farm hostage in the barn.

When Steve had finally made the executive decision to simply break down the door and head in guns blazing, they were not at all prepared for what they stumbled into.

Because, unbeknownst to them, that spineless officer had long since run out of ammo. He did have on him, however, a knife.

He eviscerated that poor girl. She was dead before Steve and Bucky and the rest of the Howlies even made their way into that barn.

Steve could never get the look of it out of his mind’s eye. The blood, the gore of her body, the way she seemed almost doll-like: her skin smooth and white, not a drop of blood on her face. Her eyes clear blue like a summer sky (like Bucky’s eyes) and her blonde hair still in perfect rings.

The officer had covered himself in her blood – tried to fake dead but Dum Dum ran up and kicked him right in the ribs as hard as he could and the man coughed and sputtered and cussed in German.

Dum Dum wanted to eviscerate him.

Steve didn’t blame him, exactly, but it still didn’t sit well with him. It seemed too much – he believed there was a time to kill (even the Bible said there was a time to kill), but there were rarely times to be _cruel_. Even then, it didn’t seem right.

But it was Bucky who took control over the situation. He took the bullets out of his gun and set his shoulders in a way Steve had never seen before.

In retrospect, he realizes, it was the first time he saw the Winter Soldier. The first time he understood the kind of man Bucky _could be_ when forced.

But he just held the bullets in his right hand and then approached the Nazi officer and slapped him across the face with the butt of his pistol.

The officer spit out one of his goddamn teeth but came up spitting and cursing in German and Bucky, calmly but firmly, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him outside, into the cool air and shoved the man to his knees.

“Bitten,” Bucky said, very calmly.

It took Steve a moment to realize he was speaking German.

When the officer said nothing, just looked up at Bucky from his spot in the mud, Bucky cocked his head slightly and started counting the bullets back into the magazine of his gun.

“Bitten Sie mich für Ihr Leben,” he said.

The man spit at Bucky – blood and saliva landing on the knee of Bucky’s pants.

Bucky shrugged, chambered a round and shot the officer between the eyes.

Steve watched him fall forward into the mud and Bucky just said, “Let’s go,” and they headed out.

Bucky didn’t _speak_ German, Steve knew that much. They’d grown up together. Had the army taught it to him?

Later, when they were building camp, Steve watched Bucky’s hands unrolling his bedroll, stirring coffee, paging through his notebook and thought about how those hands had touched him, had killed men, had been strapped to a table in Austria.

He thought about that place in Austria. They never spoke about it, but when they were lying down to sleep he realized.

They must’ve made him beg for his life.

That’s how he knew those words.

“What would you have done if he did beg for his life?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, polished off his coffee. “Shot him in the back of the head,” he answered.

 

XxX

 

“I remember,” Steve says, in the here and now where Bucky is pressed against him on the floor of a room in Serbia.

“I wanted him to beg because he was a dog. And that’s what dogs do. They beg. And I put him down because he was a dog who had bitten. That’s what they do with dogs that bite.

“That’s what they should do with me.”

“You’re not a dog, Bucky,” Steve replies, quietly.

Bucky shifts and Steve knows he’s going to stop touching him and wants to hold onto him but never wants to hold him down so he lets Bucky go. Lets Bucky sit up and the warmth that had built between them dissipates.

“They treated me like a dog,” he says.

Steve sits up, kisses the back of his shoulder. “No one will ever treat you that way again. I won’t let them.”

Bucky smiles at him, but it’s melancholy.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“Too late, I just did,” Steve says. “Now come on, lets sleep.”

Bucky lays back down, arranges himself around Steve once again and they are out like lights.

 

XxX

 

“Steve.”

Steve is warm and comfortable and sound asleep for what feels like the first time in a lifetime and he barely rouses, his tongue too heavy to even say _fuck off_ the way he wants to.

Bucky shakes his shoulder once and says again, “Steve.”

Steve snaps awake, his whole body tensing, and sits up quietly.

“They found us,” Bucky says.

Steve hears it then – a creak in the hallway, someone moving quietly across the rotting floorboards.

If it wasn’t for the serum, Steve probably wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“The roof, too,” Bucky says. He’s sitting stock still in the dark, listening to the men moving in on them.

“The window,” Steve says. They mapped their exits before deciding to sleep there and the window has enough ledge to give them purchase for the leap across to a balcony on the building opposite. They will be seen but they are fast and they can disappear on the streets below.

Bucky nods and quietly pushes the window open, motioning with his head for Steve to go first right as the door to the apartment crashes open.

Steve grabs his shield from where it had been resting against the wall and puts his foot on the windowsill. He leaps across in one quick move, landing gracefully on the balcony of the building next door, rolling through the flimsy wooden doors into the room beyond.

Bucky watches him get to his feet, and in the moment it takes for him to grab his pack off the floor the team makes it inside.

Bucky doesn’t look over his shoulder when he steps out onto the ledge.

And the jump probably wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t taken two shots to the back before attempting the leap.

 

XxX

 

He wakes up in Zola’s lab.

Strapped to the table and staring down at the concrete floor.

At least that’s what he thinks until Steve’s warm palm lands on the back of neck.

“Shh,” Steve says quietly. “We’re safe now.”

Bucky is almost completely numb. His vision swims, his tongue feels dry and heavy in the cave of his mouth and he can’t feel his feet.

He slurs something that was meant to be Steve’s name.

Steve gently helps him turn his head to the side and brushes his hair out of his face.

“You took two slugs to the back and fell two stories,” Steve says. “You shattered an ankle, bruised your ribs and the only reason you didn’t snap your arm is because you landed on the metal one. You probably have a concussion.”

“What happened then?” Bucky asks, finally managing to get his mouth to cooperate.

Steve takes a breath.

“You jumped after me,” Bucky surmises.

“I’ve jumped worse distances,” Steve says.

“Not comforting.”

Steve just shrugs. He’s very stiff, his shoulders set in that way that says _I am the Captain and You Will Listen to Me._

That look never worked on Bucky. It doesn’t work now.

“I jumped after you and managed to get us lost in the city streets. You were in and out of it, you hit your head pretty hard so it’s no suprise you don’t remember. But the police know we’re in Serbia now. They’ve already started the manhunt.”

“Of course,” Bucky says. “Where are we now?”

Steve is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “I called Natasha. She thinks we should turn ourselves in but she also doesn’t want you dying in the streets. She knew someone who knew someone. We are in the home of an American, a former army medic – an expat.”

“He just let Captain America and his Soviet assassin friend in?”

“People like helping Captain America.”

Bucky shifts. His back is on fire. He feels like someone poured alcohol directly into his bullet wounds. Someone probably did pour alcohol directly into his bullet wounds.

“You shouldn’t move,” Steve says.

Bucky brushes Steve’s hands off him and grunts as he sits up right. He has to use his hands to move his legs over all the way. It’s harder to breath sitting up right and he takes a deep, painful breath through his teeth.

“You know we can’t stay here, Steve. We don’t know this guy. He’s a friend of Natasha’s – he’s gonna turn us in.”

“You’re in no shape to move.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse,” Bucky says.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice is sharp. “One of those bullets clipped your spine. That’s not a wound you should just walk off.”

“Probably not,” Bucky agrees. “But we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Yes, we do. We stay here and regroup.”

“Steve, they are going to kill me if they find me. You could turn yourself in and probably broker a deal, but me? I’m dead in the streets.”

“I won’t let them.”

Bucky gets gingerly to his feet. His broken ankle threatens to buckle. It shakes loose a memory of a similar injury he had back in the ’70s. He walked four miles on a cracked shinbone then, so he can keep moving on this shattered ankle now.

“I believe you,” he says. “But we are also putting this expat and his whole family in danger.”

Steve is silent for moment, his face stern and brows furrowed. Bucky knows him, and after all this time, after not even knowing _himself_ , it feels good. To realize that Steve is the same man from Bucky’s youth, the same man he fought beside, the same man he fell in love with.

And Bucky knows that, with that one statement, he’s won the argument.

“Sit down,” Steve orders. “I’m going to make a phone call.”

  

XxX

 

Bucky passes out again before Steve returns.

He’s in Zola’s lab.

He’s in a bunker in Eastern Europe.

He’s in the Red Room.

He’s in the base in Siberia.

He’s in the vault in DC.

He’s exhaling ice from his lungs.

He’s made of electricity and pain and fear.

He’s a void of empty, broken space. He’s nameless and drifting and washing up destroyed on rocky shores.

He wakes up because he’s on fire.

He wakes up screaming.

He wakes up because something is very, very wrong.

 

XxX

 

“Bucky,” Steve says for the fifth time. “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, babe, you have to stop screaming,” Steve says.

His voice his high and thin. Un-Steve-like.

Bucky’s fingers curl around the edges of the bed. Steve is standing over him, looking worse for wear, all wide-eyed and startled.

“I have neighbors,” someone says and Bucky can barely turn his head to see a man standing in the doorway of the rickety little room. The medic. The expat.

“You have to stop screaming,” Steve says.

Bucky doesn’t remember screaming but his throat stings in the way it always would when he came to in the chair. He _hurts_ , all down his spine. His feet. The back of his brain.

He can’t keep still: he’s sweating and writhing like if he moves enough, he can move away from the pain. But the pain isn’t localized, has no source. It’s all around him, consuming him.

“I told you,” the expat says, coming into the room. “He needs a _doctor_. I’m not a doctor. It hit his spine. Supersoldier or not, it did damage no field medic can handle.”

Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. He’s firm but he’s not holding Bucky down. The contact is enough to ground Bucky, to comfort him. He stops writhing but continues to twitch, whimpering a little bit now. He feels like he’s on fire.

“We will be out of here at 2300 hours,” Steve says.

“We will?” Bucky asks, his tongue still heavy. His flesh hand curls around Steve’s wrist.

One of Steve’s hands threads through Bucky’s hair. In spite of everything, it feels nice. None of Hydra’s techs ever touched him tenderly. None of them ever brushed his hair out of his face.

“A friend of mine is coming to get us. We’ll go back to America. I think I know a doctor who will look at you.”

“America?” Bucky says, half-strangled on his own tongue. “They’ll find us there.”

“No, they won’t,” Steve assures him. “I’ll keep you safe. They won’t expect us there.”

He sits on the bed next to Bucky. The pain has dimmed a little, changed from being the only thing he can think about to just a low hum.

The expat left the room while they spoke, returning a moment later.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a handful of pills and a glass of water at Steve. “Codeine. I’ve never worked with a Supersoldier before,” he says and then shakes his head. “Obviously. That was a dumb thing to say. I don’t know what the proper dosage for him is. You would probably know better than anyone. Two of those would make a normal human kind of loopy. My guess would be start at six and hope for the best.”

 

XxX

 

Eight is enough to make the pain only a barely noticeable background hum in Bucky’s mind.

“Can you walk?” Steve asks.

Bucky is sitting, doubled over, staring at his boots on the ground, white-knuckling the edge of the cot.

“I think so,” he says.

Steve rubs his back a little, above the gunshot wound. Buck can feel that the skin has already healed, scarring over, pink and tight. Even that will slowly dissipate into smooth skin over the next couple of weeks.

But he knows something is wrong. His spine feels twisted up. His brain feels like it’s been boiling. His toes tingle.

“Who’s your friend? The one coming to get us?” Bucky asks.

“Clint. He’s retired, out of the game,” Steve says.

Bucky looks at him. “You should just turn me in. Not go dragging your friends into this mess.”

Steve stops rubbing his back but doesn’t take his hand of Bucky. “Why would I do that?”

“I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Bullshit.”

“I killed people, Stevie.”

“Wasn’t you.”

“It was me, though.”

“Hydra made you,” Steve says, his voice stern. The voice he uses to shut down arguments.

It doesn’t work on Bucky.

“There are still triggers in my brain, Steve,” he says. “Someone could walk in this room right this moment and say the right words and I would try to kill you.”

“I would stop you,” Steve says, matter of factly.

“And then what?”

“We would figure it out. We’ll get the triggers out of your head. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Bucky shakes his head but find that that makes the pain ramp up again and has to stop. “You can’t spend the rest of your life protecting me.”

“Why not?”

“You’re Captain America. You have more important things to do.”

Steve leans in real close, his lips touching the crest of Bucky’s ear.

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he says, his voice low and smooth and, if Bucky wasn’t one jostle away from throwing up on his shoes, it might even be arousing. “And taking care of you is the most important thing to me,” he says.

Bucky sighs.

“Fine,” he relents. “But when this goes south, I’m going to say that I told you so.”

Steve squeezes his shoulder. “I would expect nothing less.”

 

XxX

 

The expat’s brother-in-law owns an SUV and has agreed to smuggle Steve and Buck to the edge of the city. He speaks no English and neither Steve nor Bucky speak Serbian. They stand quietly while the expat talks quickly in Serbian before turning to them.

“Gentlemen,” he says. “Good luck. Tell Natasha she owes me.”

“Of course,” Steve says. And then holds out a slip of paper. “I don’t have anything to give you at the moment except my word. Once I figure this all out, I owe you a favor.”

The expat takes the slip of paper. “It’s not a problem. Just don’t drag me into the middle of an international snafu,” he says.

“Thank you again,” Steve says before helping Bucky down the stairs and out into the cool night air.

By the time they reach the street, Steve is taking most of Bucky’s weight for him, with an arm around his waist. Bucky is sweating and breathing hard.

It’s not good. It’s so not good.

But he’s no stranger to living in pain, to finishing the mission regardless of his physical state and he gives Steve a tight-lipped nod and a grimace that was meant to be a smile when Steve opens the door to the backseat for him.

Bucky lies down on the floor between the front and backseat of the SUV. He has to lie on his side – his back is still too tender to put pressure on.  Steve lies down in the back, behind the back seat and the expat’s brother-in-law climbs into the front and they began making their way through the darkened streets.

Bucky focuses on the sway of the car, on the breath in his lungs, on the way the city lights spill in through the window. He’s spent most of his life being moved like cargo, this isn’t so different. He’s been smuggled into countries and smuggled out. He’s climbed through the wilderness solo to cross borders.

But as he lies there in the dark, he can feel the pain setting in again, festering at the base of his skull and his foot starts to go numb.

This time, he’s less sure he will be able to keep his head above water.

 

XxX

 

“I might need help,” Bucky says with his voice dry. “I think my foot went to sleep.”

Steve is standing over him with the door open.

“Your foot went to sleep?”

Bucky glares at him. “Happens to the best of us, asshole.”

Steve helps him sit up. Bucky goes with a grimace, using his hand to help bend his knee. He curses very quietly under his breath and then hoists himself out of the SUV.

He stands very uneasy on his feet and their driver looks at them quietly for a moment before saying something neither can understand and getting back in the truck. He waves at them and then takes off, back toward the city that sparkles in the distance.

“Where will we go?” Bucky asks.

“Sam found us a safe house in West Virginia. I’ll be able to find a doctor to look at you,” Steve says, his voice stern with a tone of finality meant to squelch any argument.

It never worked on Bucky.

“Wandering back to the States is a great plan if you wanna get caught, Stevie,” Bucky says.

“Exactly,” Steve replies. “They won’t think we’re stupid enough to go back there.”

Bucky stares at him with his mouth open for a moment. He’s hunched over slightly, shivering in the wind. Finally he shakes his head and says. “You’re right. They should know better than to underestimate Captain America’s stupidity but they haven’t known you as long as I have. Where is this ride of ours, anyway?”

Steve stares up at the night sky. “Dunno. He should be here.”

Bucky sits down on the ground, groaning as he goes.

Which of course would be the moment a quinjet appears, coming in low and landing gently.

“This is a terrible idea,” Bucky says.

“It’s the best one we got,” Steve replies, giving Bucky his hand and helping him to his feet.

 

XxX

 

Clint is overly warm and friendly. He makes jokes about how boring retirement is, how Steve always manages to find himself in trouble.

Bucky sits in the seat behind Clint, Steve on his right and watches the blackness of night through the glass. He feels like maybe Steve’s stupid plain is gonna work but he also feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. Sitting upright makes him feel like his spine is being compressed under a great weight. He can feel where the flesh is thin around the bullet holes, the rise of scar tissue scratching at his clothing.

His foot goes numb again.

Two hours in and his hands begin to shake.

He closes his eyes, breathes deeply through his nose, grips the armrests. He thinks about walking across Austria after they mutilated him. He thinks about how important it was to him to not let on that they had hurt him.  

How he’d felt better after a few nights rest.

He got through that, he’ll get through this.

 

XxX

 

It’s the middle of the day when they land in a clearing of the woods in West Virginia.

Bucky has been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past few hours. He startled awake in a cold sweat when the craft started its descent.

Clint shuts off the engines and smiles at him and Steve over his shoulder.

Bucky’s hands tremble as he undoes the seat belt. The pain in his body is on a steady crescendo, growing more intense every moment he is awake. His foot is still numb.

Steve stands and stretches, the movement fluid and lovely, a joint in his back cracking as he goes. He turns to Buck, looking like he’s about to say something but whatever it is gets cut off when he notices the obvious grimace on Bucky’s face.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” Bucky says and launches himself to his feet, only for his knees to buckle. He hits his head on the armrest of his seat on the way down.

Bucky’s not sure if it’s Steve or Clint who cusses but then Steve’s hands are on him, helping him sit up.

“You’re not okay,” Steve says.

“No shit,” Bucky replies, trying to wave him off.

“I’ll go…,” Clint says, doesn’t finish the sentence, clears his throat and leaves the craft.

“We’ll find you a doctor,” Steve says, quietly.

Bucky stares down at his numb foot, his shaking hands. The pain down his spine has reached a boiling point and it’s starting to curl around the back of his brain. It makes him clench his teeth. It’s like sitting in the chair again, like being electrified only it doesn’t _stop._

“I don’t know that it matters at this point,” he says, but even speaking makes the pain crest in waves like battering his body against a rocky shore.

Steve rubs at the back of his neck, runs his hand down Bucky’s arm and it feels good, it feels grounding and comforting in spite of everything. Bucky wants to curl up inside of him, wants to be lulled back to sleep by the sound of his breathing.

“Can you stand?” Steve asks after a moment, his voice quiet like he’s aware that Bucky’s brain is on fire.

Bucky thinks about a minute and then nods. Steve stands first, offering Bucky his hand and Bucky takes it – half humiliated, half-grateful – and pulls himself to his feet.

He needs Steve to steady him as they exit the craft, stepping out onto damp grass.

The sky is overcast but the air is clean and slightly cool. They’re far from any cities, off the beaten path, deep in the forest and, for the first time, Bucky feels himself relax slightly. Believe slightly that maybe, maybe, they might fall under the radar and stay there.

 

XxX

 

Bucky takes ten codeine and falls asleep on his stomach on the left side of the queen bed in the cabin’s only bedroom. It’s mid-afternoon and there is a streak of sunlight falling from the window and across his back. Steve wants to just stand there and soak him in for a moment, how relaxed he looks, but also how tired, how delicate. How there are crows feet around his eyes that Steve will never know the story behind, the touch of gray dusting his stubble, the scars that have stayed despite the serum. There is a lot to know about what’s happened to him in the last seventy years. Steve finds himself both wanting and not wanting to know.

But the one thing he does know is that he shouldn’t pry. He’ll let Bucky tell him what he wants when he wants to. And if he never wants to talk about it all, that’s fine. Steve sure as hell has no desire to rehash the terrifying moments before his lungs filled with water in the _Valkyrie_.

Finally, he goes back to the main room where Clint has made himself comfortable on the couch. He’s propped his feet up on the coffee table and looks like he’s ready to take a nap right then and there.

“You can’t tell anyone we’re here,” Steve says.

“I only pretend to be an idiot,” Clint replies.

Steve relaxes slightly. “I’m just worried.”

Clint nods. “Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says.

Clint yawns. “It’s a long flight to Serbia and back. Let me catch a nap here and I’ll fetch Dr. Cho for you.”

“You think she won’t turn us in?” Steve asks.

Clint shrugs. “I trust her. Plus she’s taken the hypocritical oath and all that. Besides, I think she’s always secretly wanted to get a look at the serum.”

“I’m not offering her that,” Steve says.

Clint yawns. “I don’t mean she’ll wanna treat you like a guinea pig, just that whatever they did to him – to Bucky – it’s gonna affect his health.”

“Oh,” Steve agrees quietly. Of course it would.

“Now let me sleep,” Clint says, closing his eyes and he’s out just like that.

 

XxX

 

After all this time, Steve still doesn’t know what happened to Bucky on that table in Austria all those years ago.

He tried to ask Bucky about it once – after they finished their long march to safety.

He’d brought Bucky back to his tent (he was blessed with his own for the show). And he’d watched Bucky undress gingerly, washing himself down with a wet rag and redressing himself in Steve’s clean clothes before lying down on Steve’s cot.

“It doesn’t matter,” he’d said when Steve had asked. “I’m alive. That’s what matters. I’m with you, you crazy idiot.” And then he’d pulled Steve down onto the cot with him and Steve had gone easily.

It took them a moment to arrange themselves – Steve had already adjusted to his new, big body but Bucky hadn’t yet. They hadn’t laid down together in over a year, before the Serum, before Bucky departed.

Steve used to fit easily against Bucky’s body, head pillowed on his chest and Bucky’s arms around him. It takes them a moment to find a similar, comfortable position – Bucky flat on his back with Steve on his side next to him, his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve thinks about it now, looking at Bucky in profile in the low light of the tent. The way Bucky’s heart was beating fast but his breath coming low and slow. How he hadn’t closed his eyes but stared straight up at the top of the tent, his body not relaxing all the way.

Steve should’ve pressed him. He should have made him tell.

But it was 1942 and men carried their pain alone back then.

 

XxX

 

He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

Steve swept the property twice, checked all the supplies there and made a list of things he wanted to add, and then he found himself just standing in the living room, listening to Clint snore. He could only stand that for about three minutes before creeping back to the bedroom to check on Bucky.

Bucky was still on his stomach but had his head turned towards the door, his hair messy and falling over his face but he looked so soft and peaceful and Steve couldn’t believe it for a moment. Couldn’t believe that they were both there, in the future, together. They were different men then they’d been as boys in Brooklyn or even soldiers in the European Theater but, still, somehow, themselves. Steve would know him anywhere and Bucky – even with his mind cracked open and washed out like a glass – remembered Steve.

Steve felt heavy with it all. With their combined history and the uncertainty of the future on his shoulders. It seemed like too much to lie down next to his lover for a few moments. But as soon as he was stretched out beside Bucky, the exhaustion of the past few days caught up with him and he drifted off to sleep.

When he wakes, it’s dark and he’s not immediately aware of where he is or why he’s woken.

Then the past few days finally click – the bombing of the UN, the accords, Peggy’s death and teaming up with Bucky. They managed to outrun German Special Forces in Romania. They went non-stop to Serbia, taking the backroads.

Now, they’re in Clint’s safe house. They’re safe.

Sort of.

Bucky makes a low, choked noise in the back of his throat and Steve throws the covers off of them, discovering that they are wet.

He launches himself across the room and hits the light switch and the sudden brightness momentarily blinds him.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters. He’s shaking all over, having turned over onto his back at some point in the evening. The dampness is emanating from him – sweat and urine, Steve realizes with a sudden bolt of horror.

Steve kneels next to him on the bed, the mess be damned, and puts his hand gently on Bucky’s wrist. “Can you move?” he asks.

“Kinda,” Bucky says and reaches out to press his palm against the bedside table next to him. He uses it to leverage himself up, groaning as he goes, cussing in English and Russian. Once he gets upright, he dangles his feet off the bed and sits with his head hung.

“Sorry,” he says.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on him and hesitates before letting it rest solely on the metal of Bucky’s left shoulder. “Don’t apologize,” Steve says.

“I’m a fucking invalid,” Bucky says.

“You were shot in the spine,” Steve replies.

“I can’t feel my foot,” Bucky says. “And everything else just fucking hurts. It’s like I’m in the chair, like they are electrocuting me again except it doesn’t fucking _stop_.”

“Clint’s bringing a doctor,” Steve says. “We’ll get you fixed. Everything will be fine.”

Bucky just stares at him for a moment and Steve can feel all the what-if questions that he’s not asking. What if the doctor can’t help? What if he needs more help than they can get on the run? What if, what if?

But he just says, “Captain America, ever the optimist.”

“Well, someone’s gotta be,” Steve says.

They lapse into silence. Steve wants to be helpful but he doesn’t want to be patronizing. Bucky is still sitting there in soiled clothing and they’ll need to wash the sheets but Bucky doesn’t make a motion to stand up and go to the bathroom.

Finally Steve asks, very gently, “Do you need help?”

“I can probably make it by myself,” Bucky says but doesn’t move.

“Okay, do you _want_ help?” Steve asks.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Bucky says.

 

XxX

 

Bucky’s not shy about his body. He doesn’t hesitate to pull his clothes off in the bathroom and, at first, Steve just assumes it’s because they were lovers for so long. It’s nothing to be naked in front of your lover.

But Bucky smirks and says, “God knows how many people have seen me naked.”

It’s like being hit in the chest. His lack of modesty has nothing to do with Steve and everything to do with the way HYDRA treated him like a thing and not a person but Steve doesn’t say anything. What’s done is done.

Steve runs a bath full of steaming hot water – he’s not sure Bucky will want to stand for a shower.

“Or cleaned me up like some sort of incontinent child,” Bucky adds. There is humor in his voice but Steve knows this man. Remembers him like he remembers the way his own chest used to rattle in the winter cold. Knows this humor is a mask, but, unlike the mask HYDRA put on him, this is 100% Bucky Barnes.

There is something comforting in realizing that he’s still Bucky, after the war, after almost dying, after having his brain fried till he didn’t know his own goddamn name, he’s still James Buchanan Barnes.

But it’s horrifying. The things he went through. Steve has only scratched the surface.

Steve steadies him as he steps into the tub, helps him sit back and then goes go his bag to fish out more codeine.

Bucky takes another handful. They’ll run out in a day at this rate.

Steve has had passing moments when he’s disliked the serum. Disliked what it made of him, standing in front of the mirror and feeling like he was in a uniform he couldn’t take off, disliked the attention of women (and men) who wanted closer to his body but not necessarily _him_ , disliked the way he felt like a blunt instrument the army or the Avengers were wielding.

But it was nothing like his dislike of it in that moment, watching Bucky swallow pill after pill and knowing how quickly his body will break down and process even a dosage that high.

“No one will ever treat you like that again,” Steve says, returning to Bucky’s comments after a moment. “I won’t let them.”

Bucky turns onto his side so not to put pressure on his back, curling his knees in towards his chest. He seems so vulnerable for a moment, naked and injured and half-submerged in a tub barely big enough to hold him.

“My hero,” he says to Steve but his voice isn’t full of sarcasm. It’s tinny, quiet.

Steve sits on the floor and brushes Bucky’s hair out of his face, working his fingers through the damp locks.

Bucky eventually reaches out with his metal hand and takes Steve’s hand from his hair but doesn’t let go, just laces their fingers together. The metal is body warm and unyielding and Steve stares at the contrast between his hand and Bucky’s for a moment.

He wants to say all kinds of crazy, lovesick things. Tell Bucky that he was miserable every day since he came out of the ice, that all he wanted was to lie down and die again, that he missed Bucky so much there were days he couldn’t make himself get out of bed. He wants to tell Bucky that he wishes he’d jumped after Bucky that day on the train. That every day since then, he’s gone over the event again and again in his mind, trying to find a way to keep them both alive and coming up dry.

But he knows it’s useless to say any of that now. What’s done is done and the only thing they can do now is keep pushing forward.

He’s not going to bother Bucky with his declarations of love at this moment in time – not when Bucky is exhausted and in pain – but silently, to himself, Steve promises he’ll never let them part again.

He’s going to follow Bucky to the ends of the Earth if need be. He’ll protect him from anything and everything.

Avengers and world politics be damned. He’s died for them once, he’s tired. He’s retiring. Keeping Bucky safe is all that matters now.

 

XxX

 

Steve leaves Buck alone in the bathroom after a minute to strip the bed, tossing all the dirty linen and clothes in the washer and coming back with sweatpants he found in the closet. He helps Bucky dry off and dress and leads him out to the living room, where Bucky lies down on his stomach on the couch. He doesn’t seem in as much pain now.

“You hungry?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs. “I could eat,” he says.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve says.

Bucky laughs a little. “Sorry, it’s still hard sometimes. It’s not like HYDRA fed me. I mean, not real food.”

Steve had wandered into the tiny, adjacent kitchen. The only thing separating it from the living room is a short counter and he pauses in his journey to see what stocked the pantry.

He’d thought about it a lot after the events in DC. After Bucky had nearly killed him and then pulled him from the river.

He’d wanted to know what they did to Bucky. How he was kept. What horrors he faced. There was, of course, the files he read – translated out of German and Russian by Natasha. He knew about the experiments on American and French POW’s at the base in Austria. (He knew Bucky was “Subject 124.” The number seared into his brain like a new middle name for his long, lost childhood friend.)

He knew about them teaching him languages. ( _The Serum affects the brain as well as body. Subject 124 picks up languages easily. It’s already fluent in German and Italian and making steady progress in Russian.)_

He knew about HYDRA’s awful training programs. ( _Subject masters hand-to-hand combat with ease. It is already beating some of our best fighters.)_

He knew about HYDRA’s mind wipes. ( _Technician Alexeev calibrated the Subject’s wipe incorrectly and destroyed Subject’s knowledge of weaponry. We will have to retrain the Subject. Technician Alexeev has been permanently removed from his post.)_

But he knew nothing about Bucky’s day-to-day life under HYDRA. Their reports were void of the Subject’s care. What were they feeding him? Where did he sleep? Was he warm?

And, again, Steve has to hold back the wave of anger that threatens to overwhelm him at the knowledge that he was dead in the ice somewhere while Bucky was being held against his will. While Bucky was being manipulated and abused.

“It was just like this paste,” Bucky says, completely oblivious to Steve’s distress. “It was flavorless, in theory, but I think that just made it gross. Even when you can’t remember food you still kind of expect it to taste like something. Anyway, it was just nutrients and calories and protein. I ate when they fed me. They’d taught me to tune out discomfort. Press on through pain and hunger and cold.

“After… well. After I almost killed you, I had no idea how to take care of myself. I walked around starving for days like some sort of wild animal. I didn’t know how to _fix it_. I could recognize the sensation as something unpleasant but I didn’t know the remedy. It wasn’t like a bleeding wound you bandage, and thirst was one of the few things they never made me ignore but I couldn’t figure out what was happening to me. I thought my programing was coming undone.”

Bucky’s not really looking at him, he’s staring off at the television set in the corner that isn’t even plugged in. Steve finds himself just standing in the middle of the room, hands on the countertop and listening, because how could he not.

“I was sleeping out on the streets, still deciding where I should go. Then one day something just smelt amazing and I followed that scent to some run-down burger shack. It was just greasy junk food but I finally figured out – I was suppose to eat. I stole some cash from some rich dude on the subway and went back and, man, I probably handed the cashier at the burger joint a good sixty bucks. I hadn’t remembered yet exactly how money worked and ate and I felt so much better and I was so damn happy for a little while.

“It was the first time I remembered being happy.

“Of course, I threw up later that night. I learned later you’re not really supposed to go from starving to shoveling hamburgers down your throat.”

Bucky falls quiet.

“I’ll make us something,” Steve says after a moment.

 

XxX

 

The safe house does have some fresh food in it (courtesy of Clint) but also an enormous amount of canned and dry goods.

Steve cooks up huge bowls of vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and Bucky feels good enough to sit up. He soaks bites of sandwich in the hot broth of the soup and Steve feels oddly fulfilled for the first time in years, watching Bucky lick his fingertips and close his eyes.

“It’s good,” Bucky says, like Steve’s given him something amazing and not one of the most simple dishes on the planet to make.

“I’m glad,” he says though, finishing his own meal.

He waits till Steve stands up to get their dishes to start speaking again. Waits till Steve is setting their bowls in the sink to say, “I figured out the whole eating thing when I started to remember.”

Again, he’s not really looking at Steve as he speaks and Steve realizes how important it is to let Bucky say this in his own time, in his own way. No matter how much he wants to ask what Bucky does remember.

“It was after that burger incident, I was trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. Surely people weren’t eating only to throw up. I knew I was the one who must’ve messed up somehow.

“Then I had this tiny scrap of memory come through. I was so baffled by it. I didn’t know where it had come from or the people in it.”

Bucky looks oddly fond for a moment, a ghost of a smile at his lips.

“It was your mother. She was a nurse, right?” Bucky asks, now looking up at Steve.

Steve’s mouth is dry as he nods. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Man, that first thing I remembered. We were just kids. You must’ve been, I dunno, eleven? You’d been real sick for a long time, and finally started to get better. But you hadn’t been eating. Sarah was trying to get you to eat. I’d begged her to let me come see you. She hadn’t let me for days – you were too sick and she didn’t want me to get sick.

“Anyway. I had just this tiny slip of a memory. Of her saying, that when you haven’t eaten in awhile, you have to start with something small. And I could see you in my memory, this rail-thin, blonde boy eating half a bowl of onion soup and going right back to sleep like eating had made you too tired to stay awake.

“So, the next day, I got a bowl of soup at some Chinese place. It burnt my tongue, but it stayed down. I felt better. Your mother – she was a smart woman,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles at him. “Yeah, she was.”

 

XxX

 

Bucky turns the news on and Steve goes to call Sam.

They got separated in the fray. Somewhere between German Special Forces breaking into Bucky’s apartment and getting attacked by a giant cat during their getaway, they got separated.

Steve didn’t want to call Sam right away. He knew the intelligence agencies of multiple countries would probably be keeping an eye on all forms of communication Sam and Steve possessed.

Which was why they made an old school plan before hand. He calls a deli in Newark, NJ and places a nonsensical order with the man who answers, leaving a pseudonym as the pick up name.

And then he waits.

The news doesn’t report that Sam has been arrested. Apparently the fucking cat that attacked them was the Prince (now King) of Wakanda. Steve finds himself both surprised and not surprised by this news. Nothing is impossible these days – why wouldn’t the monarch of a reclusive country want to personally kill the Winter Soldier?

He appears in front of the smoking UN building vowing to not rest until Barnes is brought in. His voice is unwavering and stoic. He seems like a good man, a reasonable one, and Steve wishes he could speak to him for a moment to make him understand what went wrong.

Steve steals a glance at Bucky, who watches the king speak with a blank expression. Steve’s noticed that HYDRA has managed to blast or perhaps burn the natural tendency to emote out of Bucky. He’s not the joyous boy that Steve grew up with. He’s not the smooth-talking, gentleman that Steve used to go to bed with. He’s hardened muscles and steely glares but Steve finds that he loves Bucky all the same.

The phone rings and Steve steps into the back bedroom.

“What took you so long, I thought you were dead,” Sam says, all in one breath.

Steve sits down on the floor and leans back against the bed.

“We ran,” Steve says. “To Belgrade. I thought they we’d lost them after the explosion on the road.”

“You did,” Sam says.

“I don’t know how they tracked us. We spent two days making our way across Romania and we made it into Serbia, into Belgrade. We had some trouble there,” Steve says.

“What trouble?”

“German special forces surprised us while we were sleeping.”

“You weren’t sleeping in shifts?” Sam asks.

“We were exhausted,” Steve says. But, truth be told, it hadn’t occurred to him. He’d thought they were safe. He’d thought they got away. And, selfishly, he couldn’t wait to lay down next to Bucky again, to pretend, somehow, someway, they were back in their shithole flat in 1940. It was a poor decision and Bucky paid the price for it.

Steve’s stomach rolls with the sickening realization.

“I guess that happens even to supersoldiers,” Sam says instead of pressing the matter.

“Are you okay?”

“So far. They haven’t decided if they are going to press charges, or what charges they can press or what country should be doing the pressing. The Sokovian Accords technically aren’t in effect yet. At this rate, it’s really up to whether or not Romania wants to pin this whole mess on me.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Steve says.

“I know what I signed up for,” Sam replies.

“They shot Bucky in the back,” Steve says abruptly. “And he doesn’t seem to be healing right. We can—we’re supersoldiers. I’ve been shot before. It normally doesn’t take long to heal. You remember after DC?”

“Yeah, you were lapping me again in two weeks.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Steve says.

“How long has it been?” Sam asks.

Steve has to think about it. “Three days?”

“Maybe whatever HYDRA did to him doesn’t work as fast as the serum does for you. Give it time. How injured is he?”

“He’s in constant pain – and that’s hard to medicate because of the serum. He seems to have trouble walking. But, we’re in Clint’s safe house. He’s bringing a doctor here.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it handled, then,” Sam says, reassuringly.

“I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Good plan. Don’t call too often, though. I lost my tail today but I’m not sure how often I will be able to do that.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself,” Steve says.

“You too,” Sam says and hangs up.

 

XxX

 

Bucky takes more painkillers and goes back to sleep.

Steve checks the perimeter, checks the safe room hidden behind the bedroom closet, checks the monitors that display the feed from cameras in every room and several locations outside.

He’s still sitting there when the quinjet reappears outside. He watches it land on the monitor on the far right. In the middle, the camera in the bedroom shows Bucky still fast asleep, curled on his side.

For the moment before he goes to meet Clint, he begins to hope that just maybe it wall all work out.

He’ll get to keep Bucky this time.

 

XxX

 

Bucky wakes because he hears voices in the front room. The light is off in the bedroom but the door is open, letting the kitchen light spill in.

He hurts but not distractingly so. He feels sleep mussed, like being hungover. His foot is full of pinpricks, static like the circulation was momentarily cut off. It takes him a moment to will himself up. His joints are stiff with sleep and he doesn’t want to face reality for another day. But he knows that he has to and he drags himself from the bed and walks out on his unsteady feet into the kitchen.

They stop speaking when he enters the room. All three of them stare at him – Steve, Clint and a neatly dressed, young Asian woman.

Steve looks slightly shocked to see him standing on his own but Bucky doesn’t let it faze him.

“Hey Buck,” Steve finally says after a moment. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ve been worse,” he says.

“You remember Clint,” Steve says and then introduces the woman. “This is Doctor Cho. She’s agreed to look at your injury,” Steve says.

Bucky nods. He doesn’t really want to be checked over by a doctor. He’s had enough strangers’ hands on him in his life but Doctor Cho shakes his hand and tells him her credentials and he realizes she has more important things to do than help a criminal on the run. It would be beyond rude to turn her help away now.

“Where do you wanna do this?” Bucky asks, trying to keep his voice level because he’s suddenly nervous.

Cho directs him back into the bedroom so he can lie down. Clint stays in the front room but Steve follows him back and Cho closes the door behind them.

“Steve tells me you were shot in the back,” Cho says when Bucky sits on the edge of the bed.

Bucky nods.

“A field medic patched you up but you have an accelerated healing ability, correct?”

Bucky nods again.

“Do you mind showing me the injury?” she asks.

“Of course,” Bucky says, but the mere fact that she asked puts him a little more at ease. He slides his shirt over his head and then lies face down on the bed. Steve sits next to him and he reaches out for Steve’s hand with his metal one.

Steve takes it in one of his hands, the other hand coming down to rub at the back of Bucky’s neck for a moment.

He hears Cho put on a pair of latex gloves and tries not to hold his breath. He tries to breathe deep through his nose. He reminds himself he’s not strapped down. He’s not in a HYDRA bunker somewhere. He’s on a bed in a safe house and Steve is here and Steve won’t let anything happen to him.

Still. He jerks a little when Cho’s fingers touch the edges of the wound. A sick, intense feeling flicks hot and painful through him at the same time and the fear in the back of his brain ratchets up a notch.

“You’re okay,” Steve says, brushing Bucky’s hair back and out of his face.

Bucky stares up at him, at the way Steve looks tense and worried but still manages to give Bucky a shaky smile.

“This is pretty healed up,” Cho says, but the way she says it doesn’t imply anything good. She stands up and takes her gloves off. “You can sit up,” she says.

Bucky, for a moment, can’t sit up. He rolls over and then Steve has to help him sit up and put his shirt back on. Cho, delicately, looks away from this.

Once they are settled again, Cho looks in his eyes with a penlight. She has him roll up his pants legs, touches his feet, his knees, checks his reflexes. She asks a bunch of questions about the sensation in his lower limbs, in his back and about the pain in his head. Most of them are straightforward, some of them Bucky doesn’t want to answer – like the ones about his time with HYDRA or if he’s had any continence problems.

Steve just holds his hands and stays beside him, a heavy weight keeping him anchored when all he wants to do is drift off to that dark, warm place in his mind that has kept him alive for the past seventy years.

Then she’s done. She lets Bucky roll his pants back down and pull his socks on and he feels raw and exposed and the pain in the back of his skull is starting to set in again. He just wants to curl into Steve’s side, rest his head on Steve’s sturdy chest but he doesn’t. He stays still and stoic as Dr. Cho beings to tell him what she thinks.

“The serum – I haven’t gotten to study it in detail. So I am not completely certain of my findings. Also, I would need to perform an MRI on your injuries to really know for certain, but as of right now, I would say you are as healed as you are going to be.”

She looks miserable as she delivers this news. “The bullet has done damage to a few of the lower discs of your back. It doesn’t sound like good news but on the spectrum of back injuries, this could have been a lost worse. The bullet did nerve damage that will cause a weakening of your lower limbs, some incontinence, sexual dysfunction and pins and needles sensation in your legs and the absence of ankle reflex. This kind of injury, there is really nothing we can do medically except physical therapy. And, like I said, I don’t know enough about the serum. You might heal more. You’ve already healed faster than any ordinary human would and probably to a greater extent than a normal person would. Without bringing you into a hospital and doing an MRI, the only thing I can really do for you is manage your pain.”

“We can’t bring him into a hospital,” Steve says.

“I am aware,” Cho replies.

Bucky looks down at his feet. He wants to disappear. Someone framing him for a bombing in Vienna is just the cherry on top of the shit storm that has been his life.

“As for the pain in your head, I would need to do a CT scan. But I don’t think it’s related to the back injury. HYDRA mistreated you for the better part of a century. It’s a miracle you are alive, Mr. Barnes,” she says. “The pain in your head is a result of the trauma you’ve been through. Again, the only thing I can do outside of a hospital is manage your pain.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment, absorbing all this information. He takes a deep breath. He thinks about cold metal tables in Austria and Siberia. He thinks about that damn chair and it’s restraints and he thinks about Steve’s hands on him – now and then and back in their flat in ’40 and it feels like being pulled under the tide. So much has happened and he remembers so little of it and he’s always hurt in some way. There was the cold and hunger of the Depression, the discomfort of war, HYDRA’s torture, the constant worry that Steve would die (of hunger or sickness or his guts spilling out on the battlefield), there was the chair and the injuries dealt to him in battle. In a way, being here with Steve and knowing his brain will never get better, his back will never get better, feels accurate. Feels like how his life should end up.

So all he can do is sigh and say, “It’s fine. I’ve managed this far, I’ll keep going.”

Dr. Cho nods. “Maybe, someday, this will all blow over and I can take a proper look at your injures,” she says.

“I don’t like to get my hopes up,” Bucky replies.

And like that was his fucking cue, Clint knocks on the door.

“Uh, guys?” he says. “We have a problem.”

 

XxX

 

“That asshole,” Clint says when they gather in front of the monitors in the safe room. “See if I ever invite him over for Thanksgiving again.”

Iron Man is standing on the edge of the property. He seems to be surveiling it, glancing right and left as he slowly moves closer to the house.

“Is he alone?” Steve asks.

“Probably not but I don’t see anyone else,” Clint says, looking at the rest of the monitors. “I can distract him and you and Barnes can make a break for the jet?” Clint suggests.

Tony is closer now, about five feet away from their front porch.

Steve sighs. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice. What will you do?” Steve asks.

Clint shrugs. “I’ll face him head on. What is he gonna do? Arrest me?”

“Probably,” Steve says.

“I’ll figure it out,” Clint says, pulling his glove onto his left hand. “I’ve been arrested before.”

“What about Doctor Cho?” Bucky asks.

She shrugs. “I’ll be fine, too,” she says. “Go. Be careful.”

Tony is on the front porch by now. It takes Steve thirty seconds to repack his and Bucky’s bags (making sure he’s grabbed all bottles of pain reliever) and they are poised to go out the back window the moment Clint opens the front door.

Clint slings his bow carefully off to one side – so it’s not immediately threatening but not the first thing Tony will see either.

“Hey guys, I know you’re in there,” Iron Man calls from outside, his voice sounding artificial in the suit and now they can see his shadow across the front window. “Why don’t you come out so we can talk?”

Clint locks eyes with Steve and gives a tiny nod.

Bucky uses his metal arm to fling open the window just as Clint pulls the door open. Steve rolls out the window onto the grass without making a sound, taking his shield and Bucky’s duffle with him.

“Hey Tony,” Clint says, voice warm and friendly. “Long time no see.”

The faceplate of the Iron Man suit snaps back to reveal Tony’s face just as Bucky follows Steve out the window.

“Well, you know, got a little bit busy,” Tony says. He’s looking past Clint into the house but there’s nothing to see except the open window in the far room.

“The world has a tendency to fall apart if you don’t stay on top of it,” Tony continues. “Who do you have in there?” he asks.

“Just my doctor,” Clint replies. “You remember Dr. Cho,” he says.

 

XxX

 

Steve keeps low, one hand on Bucky’s arm as he listens to the bullshit conversation between Steve and Tony.

He looks across the grounds toward the quinjet, glancing around one more time for anything they missed, and then quietly says, “Go.”

Bucky thinks about his cracked shinbone, thinks about walking across Austria without any sleep and pulls on the memory of the Soldier, stamping down all his pain and discomfort. Steve is right behind him and they’re going to be fine. They’ve always had each other’s backs. Nothing’s changed in seventy years and it’s hardly any time at all before the quinjet is in the air and Bucky is watching the safe house start to shrink below them, the light of the open front door looking soft and inviting in the darkness of night.

 

XxX

 

There is a terrible sound of metal grinding.

The light clicks off and on and a loud alarm sounds and Bucky’s stomach drops out the moment before Steve yells _, “Hold on.”_


	2. Chapter 2

He’s foggy. It’s a familiar sensation – he’s drugged up to the gills.

For a moment, he cannot tell if it is a memory, a dream, or reality. Time blurs together, skipping beats as it goes.

He is in a bunker in Austria.

He is in a bunker in Siberia.

He’s on the operating table of a SHIELD hospital in Washington D.C.

He looks to the right, at the IV drip leading into his right arm. His right arm. It’s strapped to the table and his heartbeat spikes. He moves to pull the strap off with his left but he doesn’t budge. He can’t move his left arm.

A female voice says, “He’s awake.”

A male voice cusses.

Someone leans over, adjusts the IV, and he goes under again.

 

XxX

 

 _I can’t believe you’re real,_ Bucky says. He’s half illuminated in the lamp light of Steve’s tent. He’s wearing his torn up uniform but his hair is long and his eyes are haunted.

Steve knows it’s not right but can’t place why in the moment.

 _I can’t believe you’re alive,_ Steve says.

 _Me? I can walk anything off._ This time, when Steve looks at him, he’s whole and young and freshly shaved but in the same tattered clothing. He smiles at Steve. But it looks like shattered glass.

_Yeah, you better get through this with me._

_Anything for you_ , Bucky says. His voice is distant.

Steve is alone in the tent.

 

XxX

 

It takes him a moment to realize that he is awake.  He’s staring at the clean white walls of a SHIELD hospital.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Sam says.

Steve looks to his left and has to stare at Sam for a nearly a full thirty seconds before reality clicks into place.

“Sam,” he says.

“Yeah. Romania didn’t press charges. The US couldn’t figure what to charge me with so,” he shrugs. “I’m a free man.”

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asks.

“They took him to surgery,” Sam says. “They wouldn’t tell me any more.”

Steve kicks the sheets off his body, looks at the IV drip in his arm and rips it out.

“Hey, hey, cool it,” Sam says, reaching for him but Steve brushes him off. “You’re lucky they decided not to arrest you,” Sam says.

“I don’t care,” Steve says. “I have to get to Bucky. Where are my clothes?” he asks.

Sam just stares.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says and then he bursts out of the room.

It’s like running through New York after he thawed, the way he pushes through people to the nurse’s desk and demands to see Bucky.

“Captain Rogers,” the nurse says sternly, ignoring the urgency in his voice. “You were in an aircraft crash. You need to lie back down.”

But before he can argue with her, a familiar voice says, “I’ll handle this.”

Steve looks up and it’s Maria Hill standing there, her face set like stone.

“What did they do with Bucky?” he asks, already knowing she’s not going to answer.

“We’re taking care of him,” she assures Steve.

“That’s not good enough,” Steve says. “I want to see him now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. He is not on site. He’s in a very well-guarded cell at SHIELD headquarters.”

“Sam said he was in surgery.”

“There is a surgery suite at SHIELD headquarters. Your friend is fine. He’s safe. We have the best doctors and they will patch him up in no time. You should worry about yourself and your own future, right now,” Maria says.

 

XxX

 

Sam manages to talk Steve back to his room and Steve lets the nurse hook him back up the IV. It’s just saline - he was dehydrated when they brought him in.

A doctor comes in, looks in his eyes, asks him a few questions. Tells him he’s still a little bit concussed and wants Steve to stay put another night.

When he leaves the room, Steve quietly asks. “Is Tony all right?”

“He got out of the way before the quinjet crashed,” Sam says. “He’s fine. Pissed off, but fine.”

“And Clint? Doctor Cho?”

“There was no one in the house, Steve,” Maria says. There’s something in her voice though. The implication that law enforcement looked away. That Tony looked away.

Good.

“Which brings us to you and Sergeant Barnes,” Maria says. “As of right now, it doesn’t look like they are going to press any charges against you. That might change but there will be a public outcry if we arrest Captain America, regardless of what you have done.”

“What have I done?”

“You’ve helped a known murder escape prosecution.”

“He was being controlled by HYDRA. He didn’t have a choice.”

“That might be the case,” Maria says, calmly. “But you should have brought him in. Let us look at him, let us evaluate him. We could have built a very strong case for Barnes’s innocence. The fact that you took him out on the run just makes him look guilty.”

“What about the Accords?”

“The Accords were never signed. Barnes will be charged with murder and treason right here in America.”

“Fuck,” Steve says.

Maria looks to the door then back to Steve. “I’m on your side,” she says sternly, but her voice is low. “But the world is watching. The King of Wakanda is dead. All those files from HYDRA are public domain since Black Widow dropped them onto the internet last year. Everyone knows what the Winter Soldier, what Sergeant Barnes, has done – the people he’s hurt, the people he’s killed.”

“Then they also know what HYDRA did to Bucky.”

“Yes, that’s a good thing. We’ll go to trial. There is lot of evidence of the abuse and manipulation Barnes endured. We’ll do our best to get a sympathetic jury. But, you have to keep in mind, Steve, that people are dead. The world is looking for someone to hang out to dry and Barnes is an easy target.”

Steve nods, sighs, looks down at his hands. They’re clasped together in his lap, so tight his knuckles are white.

“Can I see him?”

Maria doesn’t blink. But her voice is monotone when she says, “I’ll see what I can do,” and leaves the room.

 

XxX

 

“I couldn’t just leave him,” Steve says for the six thousandth time in the morning when Sam brings him a cup of coffee and a change of clothes.

“I said nothing,” Sam replies.

Steve pulls the curtain and dresses behind it. “They’re not going to give him a fair trial and they weren’t before, either. They just wanted to scapegoat that bombing on him.”

“Steve, you know I’m on your side, but you have to think realistically. They have him on video committing that bombing and then he ran away from the police.”

Steve pulls back the current with a snap. “They weren’t going to take him alive. What was he supposed to do? Lie down and die?”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t a catch-22, but either way, he doesn’t look good to the public.”

“He didn’t do it,” Steve says.

“I believe you. But you’re going to have to convince the rest of the world.”

 

XxX

 

Maria leads him down to the first basement level of SHIELD headquarters and back into one of the surveillance rooms. She tells the officer sitting before a bank of monitors to go get a cup of coffee and once he leaves the room looks at Steve.

“Fury had a cell built shortly after we found you and thawed you out,” she explains dryly. “He said it was just in case the worst happened. It’s the most secure cell in America, probably,” she says. “And Barnes is the most wanted man in American history.”

She brings an image up on the large, center monitor.

“He’s here,” she says. “We brought Dr. Cho in to examine him. He has a back injury, damage to his central nervous system and he’s undergone extensive head trauma over the past seventy years.”

The image on the screen is monochrome shades of blue.  The room itself is very large, perfectly square with a high ceiling. In the middle, strong bars from two cages – an outer cage, spaced about ten feet back from the bars of the inner cage. This inner cage is where Bucky is actually being kept.

Steve can barely contain the flash of rage and sadness that rips through him. In this smaller space, they have given him a cot, a toilet with not so much as a curtain around it, a sink and a showerhead. Nothing else.

Bucky is lying like a lump under the blanket on the bed, his face turned toward the bars. Steve can see him breathing, but otherwise not moving. His dark hair is spilling out over his face, a tangled mess. Steve longs to push it out of his eyes, to comb it gently and pull it back.

It actually takes a moment before Steve notices--

“What… what happened to his _arm?”_ Steve can’t keep the horror out of his voice. First HYDRA abused him and now. Now SHIELD was doing with him whatever they wanted.

Maria has a calm exterior but Steve knows, somehow, it’s just a mask as she explains.  “Fury deemed it a weapon and had it removed.”

Steve breathes deeply through his nose, trying to keep himself under control enough to not burst into Fury’s office and give Fury a piece of his mind.

“He was under the whole time. He didn’t feel anything,” Maria assures him but that doesn’t make him feel better.

“I want to see him,” Steve says again.

“Barnes’ isn’t allowed any visitors,” Maria says.

Steve stands there for a moment, watching Bucky on the screen. Bucky reaches his right arm over his chest and rubs absentmindedly at his ribs under his shoulder on the left side. Then he lets his arm lie still again.

He looks so delicate to Steve. Like something kicked out into the cold. They haven’t given him enough blankets. Steve wants nothing more than to curl protectively around the curve of his back, fit himself along Bucky’s spine and keep out the rest of the world.

And it’s so maddening because he knows Bucky is here, in this building, and he can’t _get_ to him.

He stands there for one moment longer and than bursts out of the room and heads for the stairwell. He practically sprints up the ten flights of stairs to Fury’s office, bursting in without knocking.

Fury looks up from his paperwork calmly and meets Steve’s gaze, waiting for him to speak.

“Let me see Barnes,” Steve demands.

Fury sets his pen down and fixes Steve with that one-eyed glare that makes men weaker than Steve uneasy. But Steve doesn’t flinch.

“You shouldn’t be demanding anything of me, Captain Rogers. You’re lucky you’re not in that cell with him.”

“It’s not luck from where I’m standing,” Steve replies.

“They’re still deliberating if they want to charge you with treason and all you care about is seeing your boyfriend.”

“It’s amazing how meaningless politics become when the man you love is back from the dead,” Steve says.

“Well, I’m sure there are a number of historians who will be delighted to learn the queer theory of Captain America is true. Still. Barnes is a war criminal whom we have to handle with utmost care. No one knows what he’s capable of.”

“We all due respect, sir,” Steve says, “he’s injured and one-armed. Are you telling me that your highly trained operatives cannot contain a one-armed, injured man?”

“Supersoldier,” Fury corrects. “He’s a highly-trained supersoldier, same as you.”

“He has a back injury, a head injury and one arm,” Steve reiterates.

“But if I let you down there, I will have one injured supersoldier and one healthy one and I don’t want to have to worry about what you might get up to. So the answer is no. Get out of my office, Rogers.”

 

XxX

 

When he wakes up cold, he’s certain HYDRA has him again.

He’s escaped before, they brought him back before.

But they always took him right to the chair. Wiped him a few times for good measure, beat the shit out of him.

He doesn’t feel great – in fact, that’s sugar coating it. It feels like he’s been brought back to life but only just barely. But he hasn’t been tortured.

And he remembers. He remembers the bombing in the UN, he remembers Steve finding him in Romania, the two of them going on the run.

He remembers getting shot in the back.

He remembers Iron Man pulling the quinjet out of the air with them in it. The blinding light of the crash, the sound of metal tearing.

Everything else is a blank slate. He’s alone. He sits up in bed – which is the first time he realizes his arm is gone.

It’s a sickening feeling that slips through him like sludge. The horror of the missing limb. He’s unbalanced, used to compensating for the weight of the metal arm.

And he remembers, oh, he does remember. Lying prone in the snow and the sickening snap of the bone breaking, a rock he’d struck on the way down coming lose and landing on the limb, pining him.

They’d had to cut him out. Two Russian soldiers found him and sliced right through his blue coat, right through his arm and bone and dragged him away.

It’s like that all over again. Something ripped away from him against his control. Looking at the gleaming metal of the shoulder, the way it’s been rounded off to a smooth edge and sealed. It doesn’t hurt, no. There is a lot of pain in his body but none of it comes from the missing arm or his shoulder.

But it occurs to him, in a distant way he doesn’t want to think about too deeply, that the metal arm has been a part of him longer than he’s gone by his given name. Seventy some odd years.

The next thing that occurs to him is that he has no idea what has become of Steve. If he’s survived the crash. If he’s harmed. If he’s been arrested.

When he tries to stand up, he can’t feel his feet and slumps uselessly half off the bed.

 

XxX

 

Sam manages to corral Steve to a shitty bar he likes to frequent. Most of the regulars there are veterans. Some of them are missing limbs, others have that thousand-yard stare Steve remembers so well from the war.

Sam sits them in a booth in the back where no one can see them and buys the cheapest beer on tap. He lets Steve choke down two glasses before trying to talk to him.

“If you ask me,” Sam says. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Remember when we busted your wings out?” Steve says.

“No, man, no,” Sam interrupts him. “You’re not enlisting a superspy to bust Bucky out of lock up. This isn’t—this is different, Steve.”

“How is it different?”

“He’s not HYDRA and neither is Tony. And neither are the Accords. Which, by the way, have been scrapped in light of this mess. You got your way. But, we still have a justice system,” Sam says. “Not everything is solved by punching it. It’s time to let the law be the law and let it do what it’s meant to do. They’ll give Bucky a fair trial. No jury in their right mind would find him guilty of anything. We have all those HYDRA files showing what they did to Bucky. And, he’s Captain America’s best friend. You’re still a national icon, you still have a lot of influence. But you won’t if you keep tearing down American institutions like SHIELD and the entire notion of a fair trial with a jury of your peers.”

“We’re one hundred years old, Sam,” Steve says. “We were both experimented on and turned into supersoldiers. We don’t have peers.”

“You know what I mean,” Sam replies. “You need to let the system work. We’ll get him the best lawyers we can find. He’s already got sympathy on his side. It will be okay.”

Steve nods, exhaling. A little bit of the tension in his shoulder seeps out. “I just wanna see him. He’s injured, he’s alone and it’s been so long, Sam. He was everything to me and now I finally know where he is and they won’t let me see him.”

Sam takes a sip of his beer before answering. “Let Fury cool off. Everyone’s tensions are a little high right now. But, they let even Charles Manson get married in prison so, I’m sure once everyone’s had some time to blow off some steam, they’ll reconsider letting you visit your boy.”

Steve smirks just a tiny bit, in spite of himself. “You knew?”

“I had my suspicions,” Sam says. “But I always figured it was best to just let the dead lie. Except, he wasn’t really dead, because Captain America’s life continues to unfold like some ridiculous story.”

 

XxX

 

Steve crashes in Sam’s extra room. He can’t imagine going back to his own place now and Sam practically looms over him till he lies down – telling Steve that he’ll whip his ass if he gets up and paces around during the night.

It’s hard to make himself be still. His body is still thrumming high on adrenalin, so much has happened and he finally, finally, almost had Bucky back.

It’s too quiet in Sam’s house, in Sam’s neighborhood. The bed is too soft and the sheets are too smooth and he wants to reach back through the sands of time and wake up in 1940. Wake up tiny and tucked into the shelter of Bucky’s body where they slept pressed together like spoons in a drawer in their rickety bed back then.  It was a hand-me-down from Bucky mother’s when they got their own place.

Steve had always had a sinking suspicion that Bucky’s Ma knew what was going on between them but lived under the firm belief that as long as no one said it out loud, it couldn’t possibly be real.

Either way, she’s long dead now and Steve can’t ask.

Buck’s older sister is gone too. (She was the second person Steve looked up after he thawed. Peggy was the first, of course.)

She didn’t have any children, either.

For the first time, Steve realizes they are both, effectively, orphans. Neither one of them have even a distant living relative that they know of.

And, too add insult to injury, the only person on earth who cares what happens to Bucky is Steve. Steve’s been fortunate enough to rebuild, to make friends and build new relationships. But Bucky?

No one has given a damn about him in seventy years and Steve falls asleep with that knowledge, heavy in his heart, heavy like a hand pressing down on his chest.

 

XxX

 

His phone rings twice before he’s awake enough to answer it.  He smacks his foot on the bedside table when he swings himself up right, answering the phone with a swear word.

“Captain Rogers?” Maria Hill’s professional voice comes across the line. Steve squints at the clock on the bedside table in the darkness. It’s a little past three in the morning.

“Yes?” Steve replies.

“I think I can get you in to see Sergeant Barnes but you have to come right now.”

 

XxX

 

“The techs are afraid of him,” Maria says as they descend into the sub-basement levels of SHIELD where god knows what goes on. “He won’t let anyone near him.”

“Did he hurt someone?” Steve asks.

Maria shakes her head. “No, he lashed out at one of the techs sent into his cell to help him but he didn’t hit her. I think he was just trying to scare her because I’ve seen what he’s capable of, injured or not. Anyway, Daniels – of the heads of our security team – wants to sedate Barnes. I thought that was a bit extreme.”

“What happened?” Steve asks as the elevator reaches the floor Bucky’s cell is on and opens the door to the corridor.

“He’s soiled himself,” Maria says. “He won’t eat and he won’t bathe. I fear he’s trying to starve himself and I’m not sure he is physically able to bathe without aid.

“So either we send a team in there to manhandle him into compliance. Which makes us no better than the people who’ve held him captive for the last seventy years. Or we sedate him and do it without having to worry about him fighting. Or we let him waste away in his own filth,” Maria says this all with a straight, expressionless face, her voice dry and unamused. “Or we bring in the only person on Earth he knows and trusts and let him deal with it.”

Steve nods.

They are standing in a bleak hallway, lit by florescent lights. The hum of them and the ventilation are the only sounds interrupting the silence. Two guards stand on either side of a door at end of a hall, two other doors face each other on opposite sides. The guards don’t so much as blink but Steve can feel the weight of their gaze all the same.

Maria drops her voice. “I barely managed to talk Daniels into this experiment, so if you are unable to calm Barnes’ down, I don’t think I will be able to get you in again,” she says quietly.

Steve nods. “I understand.”

Maria gives him one last look before nodding to the guard on the right side of the door.

He turns and punches in a code at the keypad on the wall and the door slides free and Steve can see into the further room, where the omnipresent fluorescent lights illuminate the bars of the outer cage.

He steps through, Maria just behind him.

The room is about twenty feet high and just below the ceiling, the whole way around the room, are panels of one-way glass and Steve can immediately feel the gaze of numerous SHIELD agents watching him and Bucky like hawks as he makes his way into the room. He spots the cameras along the walls and ceiling and is vaguely surprised there aren’t guards on the inside of the room as well.

“If you have any problems, we’ll know,” Maria says, like Steve will need to be rescued from _Bucky_. “When you approach the gate, it’ll unlock. Step through, close it behind you, wait till you hear it lock again and then you can approach the inner door.”

Steve nods his understanding.

Maria then leaves without another word.

He can see, already, where Bucky is laying on his side in bed. He’s dressed in clinical white, his sheets and blankets also white. The scene is a miserable one but slightly better than Steve had anticipated. From Maria’s words, he expected to come in on Bucky snarling and rattled with anger like something caged, something inhuman, something that didn’t remember him again.

But Bucky doesn’t even look up. He doesn’t seem to be aware of Steve’s presence at all, lying deathly still.

Steve approaches the cage door and it clicks open and, again, he is aware of being watched. He swings it open, steps inside and gently closes it behind him.

The door locks again, the metal thick and immovable even to him. He approaches the inner door slowly, making noise as he goes so Bucky knows he’s there. So he doesn’t sound threatening or surprising. He doesn’t want to be one more factor in Bucky’s trauma.

Bucky still doesn’t move. Not when the door unlocks, not when Steve steps through it into the cell and not when it clicks shut behind him.

Bucky has his back turned to the room, lying on his right side with his face toward the bars. The blankets have slipped off his chest and pooled around his waist.

Steve can smell the mess, it’s not strong but the odor is there. It’s like Bucky laid down on that cot the day they brought him in here and never got up again.

Of course, Steve realizes, that probably is what happened and Steve can’t blame him. There is a tray of uneaten food by the inner door, slipped in through a slot for just that purpose. It’s long gone cold and gross and Steve’s heart breaks all over again.

He carefully crosses the room and then sits on the edge of Bucky’s cot, next to his hip and says, “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky has his eyes closed, he gives the tiniest grunt in response and Steve can’t help himself, he reaches out and gently rubs his hand over Bucky’s back, massaging at the back of Bucky’s neck and Bucky unfurls a little bit.

“Steve,” he says, his voice rusty with disuse. He rolls onto his back and blinks up at Steve.

His skin is gray and ashy, his chin dusted with two days worth of beard and his hair is tangled in greasy clumps.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Steve smiles, feels like wants to cry as he now runs his hand through Bucky’s filthy hair.

“They let me in to see you, of course,” he says.

“You’re such a fool,” Bucky replies.

“I always have been, you know that.”

Bucky smiles just a little then, its brief and broken before he says, “You should go before they don’t let you out.”

“What makes you think I want to leave?”

“Steve.”

“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?” Steve asks before Bucky can say anything else.

Bucky doesn’t meet his gaze then.

“Are you in pain?” Steve asks.

“I’m used to it.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Steve,” Bucky says again, swallowing thickly.

“I’ll make them give you painkillers,” Steve says. “I can’t get you out of here, I can’t do anything about the trial but I can make sure they take care of you.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of,” Bucky says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You remember the farm girl?” Bucky asks again.

Steve’s throat goes cold. “You know I do.”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Bucky says.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Bucky agrees shaking his head. “But everything after. Everything after, Steve. I remember, I remember and I can’t…” His voice breaks off, he chokes a little. He’s crying, only a few scattered tears but still.

Steve leans over, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s.

“It wasn’t you. You know that, it was never you. You weren’t like them. They made you. They’ll never make you again, I’ll make sure of it.”

Bucky is quiet for a long moment. He stops crying. His eyes are closed but he keeps his face pressed against Steve’s. Then he says, “I can’t get up.”

“Did they tell you about your injuries?”

Bucky nods. “My back is shot,” he says. “If it hasn’t healed, it’s not going to.”

Steve reaches down and curls his hand gently around Bucky’s wrist.

“Let me,” he says.

Bucky doesn’t open his eyes but he nods.

“Yeah?” Steve asks and his voice is so soft and so hopeful that Bucky has to look then.

“My foot, it doesn’t… I can’t get it to cooperate,” he explains.

“It’s fine. I’ll help you.”

There is a showerhead in the opposite corner of the room, next to the toilet and sink. All of it is harsh and exposed, the design deliberately sparse so nothing can be fashioned into a weapon.

First, Steve turns on the water. Nothing about the room is ideal in any capacity – Steve is well aware of the guards watching them even if he can’t see them – but at least the water in the shower gets hot.

He then helps Bucky over. Letting Bucky drape his lone arm over Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s hand around Bucky’s waist.

He helps him undress, carefully, unflinching as scars reveal themselves across the landscape of Bucky’s body. He’s all compact muscle and sharp bones. The scars on his back are still red and raised. Steve tries not to look too closely at any one mark on Bucky’s body – he doesn’t want him to feel insecure.

He guides Bucky under the spray of the water and Bucky makes a tired, grateful sound, balancing on his good foot and holding onto the pipe under the shower head with his hand. He leans his head back and lets the spray soak through his hair, his throat looking long and delicate from the motion.

Steve wants to wrap his body around him, wants to swallow him into the safety and security of himself.

He doesn’t do anything, though, but find the bar of soap that has been left for Bucky on the edge of the sink by the toilet and wash Bucky quickly and gently. Bucky trembles under the spray, his eyes closed and his body seeming to always be on the edge of collapse.

But Steve just rinses the soap away, shuts the water off and wraps Bucky in the lone towel left for him. He shivers a little as he sits on the edge of the toilet watching Steve change the sheets on his bunk before helping him dress again in clean, hospital-white clothing and guiding him back to bed.

Bucky shivers a little under the blankets and Steve puts a hand on his shoulder over the blankets, warm and steady and Bucky eventually stops shivering.

“On the bright side, these are better digs than anything HYDRA ever gave me,” he says.

“Buck,” Steve replies out of shock.

Bucky shoots him that smile. The shit-eating one he used to give Steve way back when, and it’s like being burnt from the inside out with the realization that nothing is the same but this, them, they’re still the same, somehow.

“What?” Bucky jokes. “I can’t look on the bright side? I got a cute nurse and no one’s hosed me off with freezing water.”

“I’m not a nurse,” Steve replies because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about you. I mean that cute SHIELD nurse they sent in to check my injury.”

“The one you tried to hit?” Steve asks.

Bucky stops smiling. “You know what I am,” he says after a moment.

“A veteran?” Steve asks, suddenly furious, blindsided by the intensity of the emotion. “A prisoner of war? A victim of torture and systematic abuse going back most of a century?”

“Jeez, jeez,” Bucky says and squirms till Steve’s hand falls off him. “You don’t have to get all Captain America on me,” Bucky says.

“They had to call me in the middle of the night because you were lying here in your own mess refusing to let anyone help you!” Steve exclaims.

“You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

“I’ve read the files,” Steve says.

“Fine. Then you know that I’m dangerous.”

“Only when you are _trying_ to hurt people.”

Bucky turns his face away. “I thought you wanted to see me,” he says.

“You… that can’t be why you acted the way you did.”

“Does it matter?”

“Everything you do, they will use against you in court,” Steve says.

Bucky looks back at him. “Then it doesn’t matter at all, Stevie, I’m guilty as sin.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You read the files.”

“And I read what they did to you.”

“You weren’t there, Stevie. They broke me apart and everything I did, I wanted to do it. I wanted it,” he says with a fierceness that startles Steve. “It felt good. I felt good. I felt powerful. I was powerful.”

“You were never power hungry. You always wanted what was right. You said it yourself – HYDRA broke you. They put those feelings in you.”

“It’s hard to divorce your real feelings from the ones installed in you,” Bucky says. “I can’t stop thinking about the farm girl. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hurt us by hurting her. He knew it was over.”

“You never did anything like that. You could’ve let me drown,” Steve says.

“I thought about it,” Bucky replies, his voice flat.

“But you didn’t,” Steve says.

“I wasn’t really gonna hit the nurse. I just didn’t want her to touch me,” Bucky says. “She looked so innocent. Like you did, once. I didn’t want her to get dirty by touching me.”

“She’s a nurse, she’s used to dealing with people’s medical problems.”

“Not what I meant, Stevie, and you know it.”

 

XxX

 

Steve wakes to the sound of the outer-cage’s door slamming shut. He’s curled around Bucky on the narrow bed, the two of them barely fitting and he doesn’t want to move.

He hears footsteps across the floor and the metal flap of the slot for the food tray sliding back. He looks over his shoulder once it snaps shut again and sees a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man standing between the inner and outer bars.

Steve, while having never met the man before, instantly realizes it is Daniels, head of security on this level, apparently.

And he looks less than amused. But, Steve gives him the benefit of the doubt – maybe that’s the way he always looks.

“Good morning, Captain,” he says shortly.

Steve sits up, swinging his legs off the side. Bucky makes a tiny noise rolling over and looking through the mess of his hair but Steve pats him on the shoulder to reassure him.

“Good morning,” Steve replies.

“Sergeant Barnes’s breakfast is here,” he says, nodding toward the tray on the floor. “Would you like to join me in the mess hall for breakfast?” he then asks Steve.

The muscles all down Steve’s back tighten. “I hadn’t planned on it,” he says.

“Heading home for breakfast then?” he asks.

“No sir,” Steve replies.

The man sighs, realizing his indirect approach is not working. “I want to thank you for your help last night. The staff we had was unprepared but I plan on bringing in someone more specialized for this situation. I can assure you, Barnes will be in safe hands. You and I can discuss a visitation schedule.”

“With all due respect,” Steve says. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. I will gladly handle Bucky’s care.”

“That’s not on the table,” Daniels replies.

“Well, you can either put that option on the table or you can arrest me for loitering or disobeying orders or, hell, for treason, and lock me up in the only cell on earth designed to hold a supersoldier,” Steve says.

Daniels is quiet for a moment. “I haven’t agreed to bring you meals,” he says.

“I haven’t asked you to,” Steve replies.

“I am legally and morally obligated to feed Barnes,” he says. “So either you are going to attempt to split what Barnes gets or go hungry yourself?”

“You forget, I lived through the Depression and WWII. I am no stranger to hunger. Besides, if you let Captain America starve to death under your watch, you’ll have a PR nightmare.”

“I’ll have a PR nightmare if you stay in there.”

“You’ll have a PR nightmare if you drag me out of here. You’ll have a PR nightmare if I call the press later today and tell them how SHIELD let a WWII veteran, a former prisoner of war, I might add, marinate in his own mess overnight.”

Daniels stares at Steve for another moment and then turns and leaves the outer cell and the room itself.

Steve exhales, letting the tension seep out of him.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky says from behind him.

Steve looks down at him. He looks tired, rough around the edges but whole. It makes Steve’s heart hurt a little, in good and bad ways.

“You should leave. I won’t—I won’t scare the nurse anymore.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says and goes to pick up the breakfast tray off the floor.

“Steve.”

“This isn’t a discussion, Bucky.”

Bucky props himself up on his elbow. “Why isn’t it?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you,” Steve says, sitting down beside him again.

“What about what I want? Are you going to ignore what I want? Like HYDRA did?”

“Come on, Buck,” Steve says.

“No, this is stupid. You’re not the one on trial, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Where would I go?”

“Home,” Bucky says.

“Home-- home,” Steve repeats, like the word doesn’t fit in his mouth, like he’s learning it for the first time. “I’m not sure what that means anymore. There was my mother’s house in ’20s and ’30s but she’s long dead and then there was that shithole you and I used to bunk down in, but again, that building isn’t even _standing_ anymore. Then I died and when they brought me back, they gave me this real nice place in DC. And right when it started to feel all right, it turned out it was bugged to high heaven and my neighbor was paid to spy on me. So, some home that was,” Steve says, spitting out all the words at once like he’s thought them before but never had anyone he could say them to.

“After that, I moved into Stark’s tower. You know, to be closer to friends but we aren’t currently on speaking terms, exactly.

“So I’m not entirely certain where I should go when you say home,” Steve finishes with a sharp exhale out his nose. His grip on the tray is so tight that the metal has warped a little under his fingertips.

Bucky’s voice is small when he speaks. “I mean, you should get away from me. Save yourself from all this nonsense.”

Steve’s almost trembling, shaking his head no. “I’m not going anywhere. Bucky, you’re still an American so you still get a fair trial. No one is going to find you guilty. This,” he says, nodding toward the bars around them, “is temporary. And you will get out of here. And when you do, _we_ will make a home _together._ Because anywhere you are is home for me. And SHIELD has been infiltrated by HYDRA before. I don’t trust anyone to look after you.”

“Except yourself,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles a little then. “Exactly. Now eat this, you need your strength.”

 

XxX

 

Bucky goes back to sleep after Steve coaxes him into eating. Steve sits on the edge of the bed and Bucky curls around him a little, his lone hand loose by his face and he looks soft and tired in sleep.

It feels like the first time Steve has gotten a good look at him in seventy years. He can see all the ways this man differs from the one who fell off a train a lifetime ago. His long, dark hair is sprinkled with a few graying ones, the delicate skin around his eyes are lined with crows feet and Steve’s chest aches like a physical pain with the knowledge of time lost. Time he will never get back.

When they were young and the days were seemingly endless, he always thought he would get to watch Bucky grow old. Well, assuming his sickly lungs would let him live that long. But now, there are all these years that Steve will never truly know what happened to Bucky, all this time they will never get back. He runs a hand over Bucky’s hair and thinks, that’s that. He’s not losing him again.

Losing him once this lifetime was enough.

Around noon, a non-descript SHIELD agent brings them lunch.

Two trays this time.

He doesn’t say a word when he slides one then the other through the slot and leaves with steady, nonchalant steps.

Bucky rouses from sleep with the sound and smirks.

“Looks like you got your way,” he says, amused.

Steve smiles at him. “When do I not get my way?”

“Good point,” Bucky says, sitting up and pushing his hair back clumsily. He grimaces a little as he goes and Steve watches him.

“You feeling okay?”

Bucky shrugs. “I got shot in the back, I think there is always going to be some pain. This? I can manage.”

“Okay,” Steve says but he’s less than sure.

Bucky eats slowly, and only a little of what was served to him. He doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite and Steve doesn’t want to push him, just makes quick work of his own meal and returns the trays to the slot.

As soon as he has, the door opens again – he assumes it’s the agent coming to retrieve the trays – but, no, it’s Fury with Maria and Daniels in tow.

He stops several feet from the bars of the outer cage and levels his heavy gaze on Steve.

“Captain,” he says, his voice stern and threatening as ever.

“Director,” Steve replies.

“Sleep well?” Fury asks.

“I’ve had worse nights,” Steve replies, keeping his voice level.

“You know I can’t let you stay in there,” Fury replies.

Steve shrugs. “Where would you put me if they charge me with treason?” Steve asks. “In here? Or you got another supersoldier cell?”

“You haven’t been charged with treason,” Fury replies.

“Maybe I should be.”

“Steve,” Bucky says behind him.

“No one is charging you with anything. Your boy there, he’s the one in trouble.”

“He’s also injured and your doctors have removed one of his limbs,” Steve spits out. “He’s basically harmless.”

“He didn’t seem so harmless when he was threatening our medical staff,” Fury replies.

“Well if they don’t want to care for him,” Steve begins.

“No one said that,” Fury cuts him off. “They just put their own safety first.”

“I’m not leaving,” Steve says sternly. “I’m going to stay here and make sure that Bucky gets properly cared for.”

“You are going to supervise SHIELD’s medical staff?” Fury asks, incredulously.

“No,” Steve says. “I’m going to care for him myself.”

“That’s not an option,” Fury says.

“Why not? Your staff is afraid of him. He trusts me. I’m strong enough to care for him. And if you don’t let me, I’m going to be in your office every day, annoying you,” Steve says. “I’ll waive all my rights. You can issue me one of those prison jumpers and I won’t be a threat at all.

“Hell, you don’t even have to tell the media. You have this place locked up to high heaven, no information gets out that you don’t want out.”

Fury looks over at Daniels who shrugs, whispers something Steve can’t hear and Fury turns back.

“I want your resignation,” Fury says. “You do this, you stop being Captain America and become private citizen Steve Rogers.”

“Deal,” Steve says.

 

XxX

 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky says when they are alone again.

Steve shrugs. “You’ve always thought so.”

“I was always right too,” Bucky says.

“Maybe,” Steve agrees. “It never stopped you from loving me, though.”

And he smiles. It’s stupid. He feels ridiculous, a tiny bit giddy. Things are far from perfect but at least, in this moment, he gets to keep Bucky, he gets to stay with him.

Bucky smiles at him, too, a little fleeting thing. “No, it never did stop me from loving you.”

“So you do?” Steve asks, feeling his heart crawling up into his throat. “Love me? Still?”

“Of course,” Bucky says. “You brought me back from the dead.”

“I did no such thing,” Steve replies but he’s slinging his arm over Bucky’s shoulder.

“That’s what it feels like to me,” Bucky replies.

“I love you, too,” Steve says and kisses him for the first time in seventy years.

 

XxX

 

Several things happen.

Bucky wakes in severe pain again. He’s soaked in sweat and shaking.

Steve gets him some water but he doesn’t have any painkillers to give him.

He ends up yelling for the guards for damn near half an hour before anyone comes to check on them.

The whole time, Bucky tells him to be quiet, that it’s fine. That he will be fine.

But Steve knows, it’s not fine.

Eventually, a stoic looking young nurse from SHIELD medical brings him a tiny paper cup with four pills in it.

Whatever it is, it helps Bucky fall back asleep.

In the morning, Bucky throws up his breakfast.

Lunch comes with Maria, Daniels and several other SHIELD agents.

Maria brings paperwork for Steve to sign. His resignation. A list of stipulations regarding his time locked in with Bucky.

He’s signing his rights away as a free man.

He couldn’t give a damn.

They are informed they are getting a minor room upgrade. And visitor privileges.

“Because we have to let you meet with your lawyer,” Maria explains.

Bucky nods; he looks pale and sickly after the bad night and the worse morning.

They’re moved into a holding cell while their cell is worked on.

Bucky sits limp and occasionally shivering, leaning against Steve.

“I’ll call Sam,” Steve says. A few daily phone calls have been added to their newly acquired privileges. “He’ll help us find you a good lawyer. I have a lot of savings,” he goes on. “I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

Bucky nods and Steve runs a hand across the back of his head, kisses his forehead.

 

XxX

 

Bucky lets his mind go blank and just leans into Steve, closing his eyes. He doesn’t think Steve is aware of the fact that he’s rocking them both back and forth, ever so slightly.

It feels amazing to Bucky and for a moment he can’t remember why he ran from Steve to begin with.

After Insight, after he fished Steve from the river.

He could’ve stayed. He could’ve had this two years ago.

But.

They would’ve just ended up here, sooner. In jail and Steve being the idiot that he is, locking himself in with Bucky.

Eventually, several guards retrieve them to bring them back to the large, main cell.

Steve has to steady him the whole way. He still feels—not right. He can’t feel his foot at all anymore and his head is swimming.

Their cell has new furniture in it. Not much, but still. A second bunk has been added, extra sheets and blankets, a bench so they have somewhere else to sit other than the bed. A few metal shelves have been welded directly onto the wall with a few extra changes of clothing for both him and Steve.

There is a television welded to the inside of the outer cell, allowing them to watch TV through the bars of the inner cell. Someone has already turned it to the news.

They’ve also been blessed with a radio and a stack of books.

“You can ask the guard at lunch to bring you a phone for your calls,” Maria says. “I’m going to provide you with a list of lawyers, as well.

“Barnes’s arraignment is scheduled for Monday morning,” she says.

 

XxX

 

Steve speaks to every lawyer on Maria’s list that day, making phone call after phone call.

Bucky drifts in and out of consciousness all day. Waking to Steve talking and rolling over and going right back to sleep.

He wants to tell Steve to stop. He wants to tell Steve he’s wasting his time.

He knows it would be fruitless to tell Steve that.

Instead, he sleeps. And sleeps. And sleeps.

And wishes, in his brief, waking moments, that HYDRA had never thawed him out that final time.

Steve could’ve had his new life with the Avengers. His new, shiny position at SHIELD. He could’ve stayed Captain America and found someone else and fallen in love again--

Bucky goes back to sleep.

 

XxX

 

The next day, it’s more of the same.

Steve watches as much news as he can palate, calls Sam and follows up with a few lawyers and paces the cell.

Bucky.

Well.

Bucky eats breakfast because Steve cajoles him into it.

Bucky manages to limp and stumble his way over to the toilet and back to bed.

Bucky goes back to sleep.

 

XxX

 

He wakes because Steve is brushing his hair back off his forehead. When Bucky opens his eyes, Steve just looks so-- _Steve_. Gentle and earnest and concerned.

He kind of wants to push him off the bed where he’s sitting next to Bucky.

“Maybe you should see a doctor again,” Steve says. “You’re sleeping a lot. I’m worried about you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says.

“Then you should get up. Discuss some of these lawyers with me. We have to start building your case.”

Bucky sighs. He looks past Steve and stares at the bars above them. He thinks, briefly, about how many times in his life he’s been somewhere like this. Somewhere underground. Somewhere locked up. Somewhere where people with more power than him could do anything they wanted to him.

He arrives at the conclusion that he must deserve it, somehow. If he keeps ending up here, something like fate must be calling him to it.

Only he’s gone and dragged Steve into it with him.

“I trust what you decide,” Bucky says after a pause.

 

XxX

 

“Why are you giving up on me?” Steve asks after the guard brings them dinner. It’s luke warm pasta and bread rolls.

Bucky twists his fork in the pasta. He’s having a bit of trouble with it, one-handed now, but won’t ask for help. He doesn’t meet Steve’s eye when he shrugs.

Steve doesn’t press the issue.

 

XxX

 

When he wakes in the middle of the night, it’s because his back hurts and he can’t get comfortable.

He looks over to the other bunk where Steve is lying with his back to him, the blankets having fallen off his shoulder. He’s breathing deep and steady but Bucky can tell almost instantly that he’s not asleep.

“I pulled you out of the river because I couldn’t let you die,” he says into the darkness.

Steve looks over at him, his hair mussed like he’s been tossing and turning and he squints into the darkness.

“Hmm?” he says.

“In my apartment in Romania, before we got ambushed, you asked why I pulled you from the river,” Bucky says. “I couldn’t let you die in ’39 when you got pneumonia, I couldn’t let you die the European Theater and I couldn’t let you die in that river either. I remembered you,” he says.

“I knew you would,” Steve replies.

“No, you didn’t. You’re just an idiot who always ran headlong into danger.”

Steve lies flat on his stomach, pillowing his head on his hands staring at Bucky across the space between their bunks. “They brought me back to life,” he says. “I never would’ve come out of the ice, given the choice. You were dead, along with everyone else I ever knew, except for Peggy. But she barely remembered me. And to top it all off, we never defeated HYDRA.” He gives a small shrug. “Maybe I was sick of it all.”

“So you had a death wish?” Bucky asks.

“Not exactly,” Steve says. “Just a reckless streak.”

Bucky gives a little laugh. “And now?”

“Now I have you back,” Steve says.

“And if they find me guilty?” Bucky asks.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“I thought you were the Star Spangled Man with a Plan,” Bucky jokes.

“Oh, I thought you heard, they made that up for the newsreels.”

“They made up a lot of shit for the newsreels,” Bucky says. “I remember a lot of things now. I remember that they showed me the headlines when you died. HYDRA. My captors.” Bucky can’t look at him as he speaks. “I didn’t believe it. I thought it was a lie to break my spirit. Make me easier to control.”

“They were fools,” Steve says. His voice sounds tinny and broken.

“Powerful fools,” Bucky says. “I believed for the longest time that you would rescue me,” he admits. “I used to dream about it, because you rescued me the first time HYDRA had me.

“After we fought together, in the war, I think some of that newsreel nonsense they made up about you sunk into my brain without me realizing. I started to see you as something all-powerful, all knowing.

“It was wrong of me,” Bucky says, self-deprecating. He shrugs, rubs at his face.

“It was like I thought you would know, somehow, that they had me and you would come for me. You and the rest of the Howlies would storm in and set the place ablaze and you would break the restraints they used to lock me up in with your bare hands. We would escape and watch the base blaze to the ground and then spend the next day fucking like rabbits.”

Steve feels his face fall, his heart clench. How he wishes that had been the truth. He would’ve done anything to save Bucky if he had known Bucky was alive.

Bucky laughs a little, but it’s humorless. “I spent a lot of time alone in my head when they first had me. It was easier to fantasize about you rescuing me than it was to acknowledge where I was, what was happening and the fact that rescue was not coming.

“I dreamt about it for a long time. I kept telling myself I was just waiting for you. All I had to do was live. If I had known—If I had _believed_ that you really died, well, I probably would’ve killed myself.

“It doesn’t matter. They strung me full of enough electricity to make me forget myself and forget your name.”

“But,” he adds, “I never forgot your face. Never what you looked like. I kept dreaming about you. About this strong, beautiful blonde man who would come and he would rescue me and he would take me somewhere warm and bathe me and feed me,” he says.

Then he clarifies, “I stopped wanting sex at all after they had me for a while. I mean, they never… They sure threatened it a few times. I couldn’t tell you how many times I was groped but they never… anyway. I was always cold and a little hungry and dirty. I would’ve killed for someone to feed me and wash me and put me in a warm bed.”

“God, Bucky, I wish I’d known, I wish I could’ve,” Steve says, thinking about how simple a desire that was and his heart aching all the more because of it. 

“When I saw you on the bridge,” Bucky continues, “all I could think was that I knew you and it was so wrong. You weren’t supposed to be fighting me, you were supposed to be helping me. I think that I decided that if you weren’t going to help me than I would just kill you for the false hope. I blamed you for not knowing you were supposed to rescue me.

“And then I thought, maybe you just needed to remember your mission. So I pulled you from the river and I went back to the vault they were keeping me in and I killed every HYDRA agent there and I waited. And you never came. So I went on the run.

“I was still pretty broken back then. It took a long time for me to collect the pieces. It took a long time for me to relearn how to be human and when I started remembering-- I almost didn’t want to, at first.

“There’s so much blood on my hands, Stevie. So much. I just, I thought, maybe you didn’t want me anymore. That’s why you didn’t come. That’s why I ran away.”

Steve is silent for a moment. Then he sits up, leaning forward to brush a hand through Bucky’s hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner,” he says. “I did look for you but it wasn’t right away. It should’ve been sooner.”

“I shot you three times,” Bucky says. “I know now that I was being ridiculous. Of course you couldn’t come look for me right away. Even Captain America isn’t invincible. I’m just glad I didn’t kill you.”

Steve smiles then, a gentle sort of thing. “Me too,” he says.

They are both silent for a moment.

“Do you…,” Steve starts and then blushes and that pique’s Bucky’s interest. “Do you still want that stuff?” he asks. “The being cared for. Do you want someone to bathe you and feed you and keep you warm?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I don’t want _someone_ to do it. I want _you_ to do it.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve whispers.

Bucky smiles at him, stretching out his hand.

Steve laces their fingers together.

“I wanted it before,” Bucky admits. “But I think. I think I _need_ it now.”

“I’ll do anything you need,” Steve says.

“Come here, then.” Bucky tugs on him. “Keep me warm,” he orders.

“Aye, aye,” Steve says and helps Bucky shuffle over in the narrow bunk before sliding down beside him and pulling the blankets up over both of them.

Bucky fidgets for a moment, figuring out how he fits into the curve of Steve’s body and then goes still.

 

XxX

 

They spend all of Saturday and Sunday meeting with a lawyer chosen by Steve and vetted by Sam.

His name is Levi Harper. He’s a stern-looking, middle-aged black man who knows his shit. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything and, when he leaves on Saturday night, Bucky sighs and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “Is he all right?” he asks quietly.

Bucky nods without picking his head up.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks after Bucky doesn’t add anything else.

“I hurt,” he admits. “My foot. My head. My back.”

“You want your pills?” Steve asks – having been given a small reserve to dole out to Bucky as needed.

“No,” Bucky says. “I want to lie down but I would have to walk to my cot and I don’t think my foot will take my weight right now,” he says.

Steve kisses his forehead again. “I told you, I would take care of you,” Steve says and then carries Bucky back to his cot, lays him in it with infinite tenderness and helps him get comfortable.

On Sunday, Sam shows up with Levi. He brings with him several of Steve’s suits. Bucky doesn’t have any of his own, but Steve is fairly certain Bucky will fit into his, even if the fit is not perfect.

Maria comes to brief them on transporting Barnes to the courthouse and back.

He will be escorted by no less than twelve armed SHIELD agents. They want to put him in that damn glass box again, strapped into the fucking chair and Steve goes to argue with her but Maria just pins him with her no-nonsense look and says, “This is non-negotiable. I know it’s not comfortable but if we do not treat Barnes like the threat the public thinks he is, SHIELD will face enormous backlash.”

“I don’t care about SHIELD’s public image,” Steve says.

“I know,” Maria replies calmly. “You have to keep in mind that part of this is for Barnes’ protection as well. We expect a lot of protesters tomorrow and we want Barnes to be safe. He will be released once he’s brought into the courthouse.”

“And you are just going to let me walk in?”

Maria tightens her jaw. “Perhaps you didn’t read the fine print on the paperwork Fury gave you to sign,” she says. “Mr. Rogers, you will be remaining here. You waived your rights. We have to worry about getting Barnes to the courthouse and back. We never agreed to take you along and if you leave this cell, Fury will not let you return to it.”

“What? No. I’m not going to just let him go to court by himself,” Steve practically yells.

Maria doesn’t even blink. “He won’t be by himself. I know several friends of yours will be showing up to offer their support, in addition to his counsel. But if you go to the courthouse, you will have return to your own residence at night. If you want to stay here and help with the care Mr. Barnes needs, you have to stay in this cell twenty-four hours a day.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, offering his one hand out to Steve and Steve sighs before taking it. “It’s fine. Harper will be with me. Sam will be there. Natasha will be there. I’d rather have you here.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose and nods. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

 

XxX

 

Steve wakes early in the morning and watches Bucky sleep for several moments before waking him up gently.

“Hey,” he says when Bucky looks up at him.

“Hey,” Bucky replies.

Steve smoothes his hair out of his face and kisses him gently. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into it.

“Are you ready? For today?” Steve asks when they break apart.

“No,” Bucky admits. “But I’ll survive. I’ve survived so far.”

“That’s the spirit,” Steve says. He’s not sure if he’s joking.

“Are you going to help me get ready?” Bucky asks.

“Of course,” Steve says and hoists them both out of bed.

He strips both of them out of their clothes and helps Bucky wash under the warm spray of the shower. He’s aware of the fact that they are always being watched and has long since decided he doesn’t give a fuck.

After, he sits Bucky on the lone bench in the room and carefully shaves his face with a safety razor. His touch is light and careful.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Bucky says, quietly, when Steve rinses the shaving cream off.

“I hope not,” he says, and then he helps Bucky dress.

When his hair is dry, Steve combs it back and ties it gently in a bun and Bucky no longer looks like the strange man who tried to kill him on a rooftop two years ago. He looks solid and handsome, in spite of his missing limb.

They eat breakfast in companionable silence and then it’s time.

The guards come and Steve helps Bucky stand up again.

“Will you be okay?” he whispers as they unlock the outside door.

Buck’s leg twitches a little then holds still. He nods.

Steve kisses his temple. “I’ll see you on the other side,” he says.

The guard orders him to stand back and Steve steps to the far corner of the room. He puts his hands in the air and watches as they unlock the inner cell.

Bucky steps out, a limp to his step, his one arm held stiff at his side.

The guards surround him and lead him out of the chamber.

He looks over his shoulder once on his way out.

 

XxX

 

It’s a disaster.

There are so many protestors.

Bucky can hear them from inside the glass case inside the truck.

It’s even worse once they get to the courthouse and unload him. All the angry yelling is overwhelming and all he wants is to crawl back under the covers of his bunk and lie there with Steve rubbing his back.

But, reality is harsh and clear before him. He can’t do that.

People are dead because of him. There have to be repercussions, regardless of what Steve thinks.

They do not let him out of the glass case until they have wheeled him into the courthouse itself like some kind of freak circus act.

Harper’s assistant – a sweet young woman named Eva, who Bucky probably would have fancied in another life – fixes his hair and makes sure he looks completely presentable before they go into the courtroom.

He can hear everyone whispering about him when they take their places on the defendant’s side.

The judge is older, a stern looking Japanese woman whose mere presence makes Bucky feel guilty for all the crimes he’s committed and a few he didn’t.

She reads the charges out against him and asks how he pleads.

They went over this all weekend. Steve and Harper and Sam all talking talking talking and Bucky feeling like he was being pulled under the riptide of fate again. Other people choosing his life for him. He can’t even bring himself to look at the judge when Harper stands up and says that Bucky is not guilty.

They decide on the date of the next hearing and that’s that.

All that fuss for two little words.

He is pushed out of the courtroom and toward the front room of the courthouse in a mound of SHIELD agents. He can still hear the protestors outside.

“A lot of them are here in support of you,” Eva assures him. She pats him on his left shoulder where there is still a socket of metal and he can’t feel.

He just nods. His mouth is too dry to speak. He’s too overwhelmed to deal with all the sensory input—

He can’t even say where the explosion came from.

 

XxX

 

Iron Man and Vision arrive to help clear rubble and put out the fire.

Six people are dead. A dozen or so more are injured.

One of the SHIELD guards brought Steve lunch but he didn’t have anything to tell Steve, or anything he wanted to tell Steve.

He has no idea what the status on Bucky is.

As of right now, the only information is that someone tried to kill the Winter Soldier at the courthouse.

Steve feels like an idiot. He should’ve insisted he be allowed to go with Bucky. He should’ve busted Bucky out of here days ago. He should’ve kept them in Europe. He should’ve made Bucky go first out that window in Serbia.

He should’ve jumped off that goddamn train seventy years ago.

He paces all night.

In the morning – eight people are dead. Fourteen are injured.

And the news still hasn’t released if Bucky is among the dead or not.

Steve sits on the edge of Bucky’s bunk and presses the heels of his hands to his forehead.

He wants to pray.

He wants to pray that Bucky is alive, that they will get through this, that things will be okay. He wants to ask for forgiveness for the deaths of the people at the courthouse, for the victims of the Winter Soldier.

For that farm girl in Italy.

So many things.

“He’s alive,” Maria says, startling him out of his thoughts.

Steve hadn’t even heard the door open. He looks up at her and she looks just, awful. Dark circles around her eyes and her normally immaculate clothing starting to crease, her hair coming loose.

It’s clearly been a long day.

“We didn’t want it released right away because we didn’t want an attack on the hospital,” she says. “They took him to a hospitalize to stabilize him and held him overnight for observation. But he’ll be back here in a few hours.”

Steve nods.

“You should get some sleep,” Maria says, suddenly sounding informal.

Steve nods again.

She gives him one last meaningful look and then heads out.

Steve takes her advice and sleeps deeply, tucked into Bucky’s bunk.

 

XxX

 

When they bring Bucky back, he is practically catatonic.

There is some scarring on his face, already so faint that Steve knows it’ll be completely gone in a day or two.

He basically falls into Steve’s arms once they bring him back into the inner cell.

Steve scoops him up and Bucky buries his face into Steve’s shoulder, shaking all over. Steve wraps his arms around him, pets the back of his head with one hand and rocks him gently for several long moments.

Bucky’s voice breaks the silence.

“Steve,” he says, his voice dry and quiet. “Those people are dead because of me.”

Steve hushes him, tries to pull back so he can look in Bucky’s face but Bucky just burrows deeper into his shoulder. Steve thinks he might be crying but can’t tell for sure.

“No, it wasn’t you. Those people died because some asshole set a bomb and killed them.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment but then says, “It was meant for me.”

“You don’t deserve to die either,” Steve says.

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out. His trembling stops and he rolls his face out of Steve’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he says.

“We’ll get through this,” Steve promises. “They’ll find you innocent and I’ll take you back to Brooklyn. I’ll get us an apartment overlooking the water and no one will ever bother you again.”

“You won’t make me go outside?” Bucky asks.

“I won’t make you go outside. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I have back pay from the army. We can spend all day, every day in our pajamas, eating delivery food and catching up on all the shitty movies we missed the last seven decades,” Steve says.

“That sounds nice,” Bucky says. “But I hope we get to spend some time out of our pajamas, too.”

Steve looks down at him then and Bucky smirks a little at him, a filthy, flirtatious thing in spite of the circumstances.

“Of course, pal,” Steve says and shifts so he can kiss him.

 

XxX

 

Fury and Maria arrive with breakfast and several other SHIELD agents.

“We’ve been in meetings all night so we’ll make this quick,” Fury says from outside the bars. “It’s been decided that taking Barnes to the courthouse and back every day of his trial is too risky. There is a high chance of copycat attacks and other attacks and we simply cannot assure his and everyone else’s safety.”

“So I won’t be present at my own trial?” Bucky asks, a flash of anger in his voice.

“Not exactly,” Maria says. “We will install a webcam. Your lawyer and his team will go to the courthouse every day on your behalf and you will watch the proceedings from here and they will be able to see you on a monitor there. It won’t affect the trial. It’ll just keep you and everyone else safer.”

 

XxX

 

Steve thinks Harper is going to blow a gasket when he gets on the phone with him after breakfast.

He says a lot of things about due process and the fifth and sixth amendments and some case out in Utah.

Steve doesn’t know enough to follow what he says but the take away from the conversation is that Harper is going to go yell at a judge.

“It seems fitting,” Bucky says when Steve gets off the phone.

He hasn’t touched his breakfast – oatmeal, long gone cold; a few slices of buttered toast and bacon. A million years ago, Bucky used to love bacon. Would steal it off of Steve’s plate by distracting him with kisses.

The memory hits so hard and so suddenly that Steve feels winded and forces himself back into the present.

“People have been deciding my fate without my consent for most of my life,” Bucky says. “There was the homophobia of the ’30s that forced us to love each other in secret,” Bucky says. “Then there was the draft, the POW camp in Austria where they did this to me. You show up and well, of course I was going to follow you back out there,” he says.

He’s never said anything like that before. Steve had—Steve had just _assumed_ that of course Bucky would want to fight for his country. Of course Bucky would join the Howlies. Of course he would go with him back into the war—

Steve swallows the lump around his throat.

“The train,” Bucky continues. “Zola’s lab and the Russians. The chair. The bombing of the UN and now this.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, his throat feels like it’s full of glass.

“I feel like I’m a passenger,” Bucky says. “Like all I can do is just hold on and hold and hold on. And I’m tired, Steve, I don’t want to hold on anymore.”

Steve is silent for a moment. It’s easier, sometimes, to deal with what is happening right now, than it is to acknowledge all the things that have happened to Bucky.

He wants to take the weight off Buck, of course he does. He wants to bear the burden with him but it’s hard to know the truth. The truth that Bucky was being abused and mutilated while Steve slept in the ice. That he survived the fall and Steve didn’t go back to look for him; had just assumed the worst.

Now, though, he takes Bucky’s hand in his and kisses the back of it. He runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair and then pulls him closer so he can kiss his forehead.

“Please,” he whispers. “Hold on a little bit longer for me. I know I’m asking a lot, but you are strong and you can get through this and then I’ll take you home. I’ll make a place for you and I’ll take care of you.”

“For you,” Bucky says. “I’ll hold on for you.”

 

XxX

 

No amount of screaming on Harper’s part makes the judge change her mind. Bucky will sit in his cell and view a live feed of his trial. Fine. What’s done is done.

Bucky is having another bad day, too. He needs Steve’s help to eat, to make his way to the toilet in the cell, to shower, to get dressed.

He’s quiet the whole day, too. Reserved. Steve turns the news off and on a few times during the day. Reads a little from one of the books.

Bucky just sits.

Steve can’t stop thinking about what he’d said – about being a passenger. About everything happening to him, against his will.

After dinner, Steve sits next to him and kisses his shoulder – the left one, right above the scarring, where the skin still has sensation.

Bucky gives him a tiny smile then.

“I didn’t know you didn’t want to go back out in the field,” Steve says, quietly.

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky replies. “It was the ‘40s and a war was on and men didn’t admit to being afraid. Besides, there was Carter…”

“What about her?”

“The way you looked at her, Stevie. I knew when the war was over, you would be making a home with her, not with me. I was so greedy. I wanted as much of you as I could have and I figured,” he says with a shrug. “I had to go with you. Of course. Because I loved you, because I had to have your back, because you were worth it. Besides, who would I have been had I not gone?”

“That’s a lot. I never…”

Steve swallows. Thinks about what he wants to say. Tries again.

“I was in love with Peggy. But that never subtracted from how I loved you. And Peggy and I. We never… I mean, we kissed but you were… dead by then,” Steve explains. “I hadn’t though of life after the war. You or her. I didn’t have a plan. My plan was to take down HYDRA. I needed both of you and the rest of the Howlies to do that. And then it turns out, we didn’t even manage it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Bucky says. “It’s not your fault.”

“I think we both have this habit of holding ourselves accountable for things that aren’t our fault,” Steve says and gives Bucky a pointed look.

Bucky cracks a smile. “You think you’re so clever.”

“Of course I do, I’m Captain America.”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

Steve nods. “You’re right, not anymore.”

Before Bucky can say anything else about it, Steve kisses him.

He turns to face Bucky more fully and deepens the kiss. Presses into it, tangles his hand in Bucky’s hair and Bucky responds in kind. Bucky’s hand finds it’s way to Steve’s thigh and his mouth opens to let Steve push his tongue in.

They haven’t done anything other than kiss since they’ve been reunited. Steve is almost instantly aroused. He hasn’t been with anyone since Bucky. His hands start on Bucky’s waist, but quickly start making their way up, feeling along Bucky’s muscles and scars.

Bucky seems just as eager, at first, kissing back and letting Steve pull them close together. It’s not until Steve tries to take off his shirt that he breaks away.

“They’re still watching us,” Bucky says, motioning with his head to the camera and windows in the cell without looking at any of them directly.

Steve takes a breath, trying to will his blood to not all rush south at once before answering. “I don’t care.”

Bucky sets his lips, tilting his head so his hair falls in his face. “ _I_ care,” he says.

Steve drums his fingers and looks around for a second.

“How about this,” he says, pulling Bucky’s blanket up. “Lie down,” he orders.

“Steve,” Bucky scolds.

“No, trust me. If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

Bucky glares at him but does lie down. Steve lies next to him and pulls the blanket up all the way, over their heads. It quickly becomes warm and stuffy and Steve lays half on top of Bucky, kissing him again.

Bucky shifts so one of Steve’s legs is between his, his arm snaking around Steve’s waist and finding it’s way onto his ass, holding him close as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Slowly, Bucky’s body responds, stirring in his pants and he uses his hand to push Steve harder into him, giving him something to grind against.

“Yeah?” Steve inquires, rutting back against him.

Bucky makes a tiny, encouraging noise in the back of his throat and then gasps when Steve bites at his neck.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers wetly into Bucky’s ear as his hips begin to really move with purpose.

Bucky turns his face to find Steve’s lips again. “I missed you too,” he says. “For years, Stevie, years.”

Bucky’s hand snakes down the back of Steve’s pants and plasters, skin-to-skin with his ass. Steve’s skin is warm and soft over thick muscle and the curves of him are so familiar. The way he moves, the way he smells. Bucky knows it all so well, it’s relief in and of itself to remember, to know this is real. They were real. Steve is real.

The metal of the cot’s frame squeaks with Steve’s thrusts but Bucky, suddenly, doesn’t care who’s watching or what they hear. It’s been decades since he felt like this, had Steve this close. He wants it now.

Steve comes first, sucking hard on Bucky’s lower lip and grinding his cock into the muscle just over Bucky’s hip.

He gasps, his eyes going wide, like he’s shocked by his pleasure and then every muscle in his body pulls taut before relaxing heavily against Bucky.

Bucky smiles at him, even laughs a bit at the way Steve takes a moment to come back to himself. It’s so familiar – sleepy, pliant Steve after a good fuck. And, jeez, Bucky always loved that Steve wasn’t picky in bed. In the war, they almost never had time to take off their clothes and fuck properly but Steve was happy with whatever – a quick handjob, a messy blowjob, rutting together like teenagers. Whatever. As long as it was Bucky, he seemed always able to get off just fine.

Steve’s hand snakes under Bucky’s shirt and teases at the band of Bucky’s pants. “Can I?” he asks, so gentle. So fucking gentle. 

Bucky feels himself turn pink all the way up his ears as he nods. “Please,” he says and spreads his legs a little as Steve pushes his hand into Bucky’s pants and grasps his cock.

Steve’s hand is warm and dry, but he rubs his thumb through the pre-come on the head of Bucky’s dick. Bucky jerks a little; overly sensitive with how long it’s been since he’s been touched.

Steve kisses his temple. “You’re okay,” he says. “I’m here.”

Bucky nudges him into kissing his lips as Steve begins to stroke Bucky in earnest. Bucky rocks with it, whining a little as it builds.  

“Come for me, baby,” Steve says.

“I can’t,” Bucky replies, shoving his hips up into Steve’s hand. His orgasm feels tantalizingly close yet terrifying and intense, making him afraid to actually come.

Steve hushes him, kisses him. Says, “I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m trying…”

Then Steve shifts his weight a little, lying almost completely on top of Bucky. He tightens his grip a little and Bucky tips his head back, twitches once and comes all over Steve’s hand.

“That’s it,” Steve says, his voice low and gentle. He mutters a lot of other nonsense, praise and promises and things that feel heavy and important in Bucky’s heart. The kind of things he loves to hear but would always be too afraid to ask for.

Steve cleans them both up and they fall asleep tucked up against each other, like spoons in a drawer.

 

XxX

 

The next time Bucky has a court appearance, Steve helps him shower and dress and shave.

He also showers and dresses and shaves himself.

Since they’re not going to take Bucky from the cell for this, he’ll sit right beside Bucky on the metal bench and face the unblinking eye of the camera with him.

Watching the feed feels unreal.

The prosecutor is some straight-laced, Washington lawyer named Eli Lintz. He’s clean and polished and sharp-tongued and it takes a lot for Steve to keep his mouth shut while he gives his opening statement.

He paints Bucky out to be a monster, a deserter and a traitor. He makes it sound like Bucky single handedly destroyed one of America’s intelligence agencies.

Bucky’s fingers grip tight to his knee the whole time Lintz speaks to the jury. He’s wide-eyed and stock-still. It’s the sort of stillness that only comes from years of training. Or, in Bucky’s case, years of trauma.

Steve checks to make sure their hands are out of sight of the camera before reaching over and sliding his fingers into Bucky’s.

Bucky takes a sharp breath and then relaxes minutely, letting Steve grip his fingers gently.

Harper paints a different scene with his opening statement.

“Imagine,” he says. “That you thought you were dead. That you had fallen from a great height and woken up, alone, in the snow, with no hope of rescue.

“Now imagine that you were rescued. And you were rescued by men you thought were your allies. Only, instead of being helped, instead of being set free, you were tortured. Abused. Locked up.

“Wouldn’t you believe you were in Hell? Wouldn’t you wonder what you had done to deserve such a treatment?

“Wouldn’t you lose yourself after a while?

“The defense is going to argue that Sergeant Barnes is a war hero. He was captured, tortured, starved, brainwashed and experimented on. We will show that Barnes did not act of his own volition but was forced, by a highly elusive enemy agency, to commit crimes against his country. And we will show that the moment Barnes had regained enough of his memories to recover his agency, he turned his back on his captors and helped defend the American people again.

“James Buchanan Barnes is not a traitor. He is not a monster or a murderer. He is America’s longest-suffering prisoner of war.”

When court adjourns, the feed is cut and Steve turns to Bucky.

Bucky lets out a shaky breath and nods.

“I see why Sam recommended him,” he says after a moment.

Steve smiles. “I told you,” he says. “No one can possibly find you guilty.”

 

XxX

 

“The real question,” Harper says when he comes by that night. “Is if Bucky should take the stand or not.”

“Do I have to?” Bucky asks.

“No, you have the right to not self-incriminate. Despite what the republicans have been screaming, you are still an American citizen and the Fifth Amendment still applies to you,” Harper says. “But it also might be beneficial to your case to talk to the jury.”

“What will I have to tell them?” Bucky asks. Steve can see how tense he is.

“If they could hear first hand what you went through, see how it has affected you, I think it would garner a lot of sympathy.”

“But what will the prosecution ask him?” Steve asks.

“I can’t know for certain, but they’ll look for a chink, of course. Lintz will ask him about tiny specific details and come up with hypotheticals in which Bucky could have ignored or defied his captors. Of course, I have expert witnesses – psychiatrists and doctors – who will testify that Bucky was not in control of himself. In the ideal circumstance, Lintz will look like he’s harassing a tortured veteran.”

“And in the worst case?” Bucky asks.

“The jury will believe him. They’ll believe you could’ve gotten away from HYDRA at any point you wanted.”

Bucky nods but doesn’t say anything else.

“I will have a psychiatrist coming to talk to you. He’s highly respected and it’ll help prove you weren’t in your right mind during the seventy years HYDRA had you.”

Harper says _seventy years_ with a tone of outrage and disbelief. It’s comforting to Steve in a way. Bucky, however, looks damn near catatonic.

“Do I have to speak to him?” Bucky asks.

Harper shifts a little, looking confused.

“Bucky,” Steve says. “Why wouldn’t you want to?”

“I’m sick of people digging around in my brain,” Bucky says.

Steve feels a block of frustration forming at the back of his mind. It’s the farm girl all over again. Bucky always said that Steve was the stubborn one, but he’s never had to argue with himself.

“Most of our case hinges on the fact that you were brainwashed. Without expert testimony, it’s all hearsay,” Harper says.

“Fine,” Bucky says. “But I want Steve to stay with me the whole time.”

Harper sighs. “The prosecution will argue that Captain Rogers was feeding you answers if he stays with you.”

“He’s not a captain anymore,” Bucky says, his voice emotionless. “But I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll set the appointment up for tomorrow,” Harper says. He scoops up the rest of his papers. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Sergeant Barnes. I think the world wants to believe you. The trial is just a formality.”

Bucky nods but doesn’t say anything.

As soon as Harper leaves the room, he exhales and his hand begins to shake.

“Buck?” Steve mutters.

Bucky drops his head. “I hate this, Stevie, I hate this.”

“I know you do,” Steve says, comfortingly. “I know.”

 

XxX

 

Steve refuses to leave the cell until Fury has promised he can return to it.

He gives Bucky a peck on the cheek before leaving him alone with the psychiatrist and goes to the cafeteria on the ground level for a cup of coffee.

Everyone avoids him when they see him. He is no longer SHIELD. No longer Army. No longer an Avenger.

He is private citizen Steve Rogers.

He is civilian Steve Rogers.

He hasn’t been a civilian for seventy years.

He hasn’t been a lot of things for seventy years.

He also hasn’t seen the sun in three weeks so he sits in a chair beside the window and basks in it.

 

XxX

 

He’s there for close to five hours before one of the guards comes to fetch him.

When he goes back down to the cell, Bucky is lying on his side in bed, curled away from the door.

“Buck?” Steve asks, standing over him.

Bucky doesn’t respond and doesn’t move.

Steve sits on the edge of the bed and strokes a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” he says, quietly, after a moment.

“I deserve it,” Bucky replies. “I remember everything,” he says. “All of them.”

Then he rolls onto his back, looks up at Steve with eyes like a distant storm.  “I killed Howard Stark,” he says.

Steve’s heart rockets up into his throat for a moment.

“He recognized me,” Bucky says. “And I killed him. He was your friend.”

Steve hushes him. “It’s all over now. It wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky curls toward Steve this time, his hand reaching out and grabbing a fold of Steve’s pants, like he needs to hold onto reality.

“You keep saying that,” Bucky says. “But it doesn’t _help._ I still remember. I feel like I’m walking around, covered in blood and I can’t get clean and then I touch you and.”

“And what?”

Bucky pulls his hand away from Steve. “And I get you dirty. You’re in here with me. You’re the farm girl.”

“I’m not—I’m not the farm girl,” Steve says, suddenly furious. “And you’re not some cowardly Nazi officer and you didn’t choose any of this and you would never hurt me.”

“I shot you three times, gave you a concussion and almost let you drown,” Bucky says flatly.

“No, you didn’t. The Winter Soldier did all that shit and Bucky Barnes was one of his victims too.”

“I’m not Jekyll and Hyde. You don’t get to pull my life apart like that, Steve. I remember. I did it. And they want blood and I—I think they deserve it.”

“What are you saying?” Steve demands. “You want to plead guilty? Lie down and die just because a few ignorant assholes think you should? Is that what you want?”

“Steve,” Bucky cajoles.

“No,” Steve is yelling now, so angry he can’t control himself. “I was here, Bucky. I had to keep going. You died and I had to keep fighting the war. They brought me back to life and you were still dead and I had to put that stupid suit back on and fight again. And again and again. And they made me fight _you_. I was supposed to just deal with it. No one gave a damn about me, just what they could get out of me. Regardless of what it cost.

“ _I’m_ tired, Bucky. I’m done with all this. I want the peace and quiet that the world owes me after all I’ve given them. And, goddamn it, I’m selfish, Bucky. I want you there. I want you with me because you are the only thing I’ve wanted since I woke up in this century.

“All our friends who survived that war got to go home, Bucky. They got to go home and marry their sweethearts and get good jobs in the city and buy houses and cars and raise their children in quiet, safe neighborhoods. They got the fucking American dream and what did we get? Another war? Another battle? Our names dragged through the mud like we didn’t die for our country?

“Fuck that, Bucky. Fuck it. We are going to get through this and then I’m going to make us a home and we are going to get our piece of the American dream and never answer to revelry again.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, his voice is broken and it shakes all the anger right out of Steve. “I can’t get up,” he says. “My back—it’s a bad day.”

“Shit, you need your pills?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “I need—toilet,” he says and flushes red.

Steve nods and helps Bucky sit up and limps him over to the toilet, helps him undo his pants and sit down.

Bucky hides his face behind his hair, does his business and then Steve helps him up again, washes his one hand between both of his before taking him back to bed.

“I promised I would fight,” Bucky says. “I promised you. But I just spent hours telling a total stranger about all the things HYDR did to me. All the things they made me do to other people. And I… I’m a house of horrors, Stevie. I’m not the man who died in ’44.”

“Those things don’t define you.”

“They do right now,” Bucky says. “It’s why I’m on trial.”

 

XxX

 

Natasha – bless her – helps Harper pull information from HYDRA’s files. Sam comes by and spends time with them, talks about baseball and music and momentarily distracts them from the issues at hand.

Tony appears once on the news long enough to say “No comment,” about the trial.

Steve isn’t surprised but isn’t delighted either.

Sharon calls to offer her support, but she’s buried in her work in Germany and cannot come to offer support.

The trial is a near daily, grueling event. Bucky has good days and bad days. Days he can walk around their confines by himself – though slowly and cautiously – and days he can barely sit up on his own. Some days, after they cut the feed to the courtroom, he sits and shakes and all Steve can do his hold him and pet his hair and promise him that he’s loved no matter what.

Harper is sharp when he cross-examines witnesses. He tears apart military experts, pokes holes in the stories of eyewitnesses and never fails to build Bucky’s humanity.

After nearly two-weeks of watching Harper destroy the prosecution, Steve turns to Bucky as soon as the feed is cut and says, “See? We’re going to get through this.”

 

XxX

 

Steve is reading Sherlock Holmes aloud to Bucky (because prison is boring and he never did finish the stories as a kid) when the door opens.

Bucky looks up when Steve stops reading. He’s not having a bad day but he’s not having a good day either and had spent most of the morning with his head in Steve’s lap, having his hair stroked while Steve read to him.

They weren’t expecting visitors today – Harper has taken to updating them mostly over videoconferences, and Sam typically plans his visits in advanced.

Of course, none of them were expecting _Natasha_. While she’s helped the case, she’s never stopped by on her own and Steve is about to ask her why she’s here when Sam, Harper and Harper’s assistant follow her through.

Bucky sits up gingerly and pulls his hair out of his face.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice dry, almost emotionless.

“We don’t have all the facts yet,” Harper says. “Miss Romanoff will be leaving within the hour to help a discovery in Siberia. The prosecution has requested a continuance because they believe they have new information relevant to Sergeant Barnes’ case.”

“How was this discovery made?” Bucky asks.

“Lintz has enlisted an expert on Eastern European and Slavic History, Language and Military, a Skovian man named Helmut Zemo. He made the discovery in HYDRA’s files.”

“I thought you went through all the files?” Steve asks.

“There’s thousands of them,” Harper says.

“Zemo had a head start,” Natasha cuts in. “Apparently he took a special interest in the files as soon as they were dropped, due to the nature of his work and lifestyle,” she says.

“So he’s been studying them for years,” Steve sums up and rubs at the back of his neck.

“He waited till now to see what’s in Siberia?” Bucky asks.

“Russia only recently gave him permission to travel to Siberia and follow up the discovery. They had many demands Lintz had to negotiate before they would let Zemo and his team in to make the discovery.”

“They must think it’s important,” Steve says. “Do you have any idea what’s there?”

“Like I said, Natasha will be going along, but they haven’t given us any concrete information yet,” Harper says.

“That’s why we’re here,” Sam finally cuts in. “We figured if anyone knew what they are about to discover in Russia, it would be Bucky.”

All eyes turn to Bucky. His lone hand curls tightly in the folds of his white pants.

“Buck?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes for a moment and then finally speaks.

“I was kept in Siberia,” he says. “For… most of my life.”

“So they’ll find, what? The facility?” Sam asks. “That sounds like a good thing, more evidence of how poorly you were treated by HYDRA.”

Bucky shakes his head and then stops. “Yes but. That’s not all.”

“What else is there?” Harper asks.

“HYDRA kept the Winter Soldiers in that base. _All_ the Winter Soldiers.”

“You…?” Steve’s voice drops off as shock washes through him. “You weren’t the only Winter Soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head. “They brought in HYDRA’s most elite team. There were five of them. Extremely well trained, smart, experienced soldiers. And they gave them the serum and made me train them,” Bucky says.

“And you’re telling me that they are still at that base?” Sam asks.

“The project wasn’t a success. They were unstable,” Bucky explains. “HYDRA had trouble controlling them. So they put them all into cryo and left them there.”

“You think they’re still there?” Sam asks.

 

 XxX

 

“As far as I know, they were never brought back out of cryo. HYDRA didn’t like to destroy even failed experiments if they thought they could salvage them down the line,” Bucky says.

“The fact that they continued using Barnes as their asset suggest that they were unable to get the team stable enough for use,” Natasha says. “But that doesn’t mean they destroyed the others.”

“So they are going to walk into a HYDRA base with five Winter Soldiers on ice? In Russia?” Sam sums up.

Natasha nods. “I am going to meet the team, along with Tony and officials from the U.N.,” she says. “I’ll report back our findings,” she says and leaves.

“Don’t worry just yet,” Harper says. “Lets see what information they gather before we decide what is next.”

 

XxX

 

“How come you didn’t tell me?” Steve asks when they are alone.

Instead of answering, Bucky flops down onto Steve’s lap and buries his face in Steve’s stomach for a moment. “There’s so much to remember,” he says. “I was trying so hard to just survive. It seems impossible to forget five Winter Soldiers frozen in Russia but I couldn’t remember my own name for most of my life. And the experiment with the other Soldiers only lasted about a year in the early 90’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, already feeling foolish for his question.

“Tell me what’s going to happen after the trial,” Bucky says, his arm reaching around to hold Steve.

Steve brushes a hand through Bucky’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me about the life you want when this is all over.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

“You’re not Captain America anymore, how will you spend your time?”

“With you, of course,” Steve says.

Bucky gives him a flat, dry glare.

Steve giggles, just a little. “What? That’s my plan.”

“Steve,” Bucky whines.

“Okay. Okay. We’ll go back to Brooklyn. If you want. Or we can get a house somewhere outside of the city, where it’s quiet.”

“Naw,” Bucky shakes his head. “Maybe when we’re old. Right now, I want to go back to Brooklyn.”

“Bucky, we’re 100 years old,” Steve says.

“Not in spirit,” Bucky replies.

“Fine. I’ll find us a nice place in Brooklyn.”

“Over a deli. I want to buy fresh sandwiches every day.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees. “Over a deli. With a view of the skyline. And a balcony that we can sit on in the evening and drink beer and watch people walk by on the streets below. Like we used to when we were kids.”

“Will you draw again?” Bucky asks.

Steve thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe. I haven’t drawn anything since they woke me up but, hey, I’m retired. I’ll be with my best guy. Maybe it’s time to start drawing again.”

“What do you want to draw?”

“I dunno,” Steve says. “I’ll think of something.”

“Tell me more.”

Steve finds himself talking all about the life they could have together, living quietly in Brooklyn. Growing herbs on their windowsill, decorating their bedroom, catching up on music and movies and history together. A thousand, tiny, domestic dreams that Steve never let himself even think of when he was young, growing up in Brooklyn. Things he never thought he could have with Bucky the way the world was back then.

All they have to do is get through this trial.

 

XxX

 

“The only good news,” Harper says, “is that the five Winter Soldiers in Siberia are going to spend the rest of their lives in a Russian prison.”

“That’s the good news?” Steve asks.

“Natasha interviewed all of them, as did Hemlut Zemo,” Harper explains. “I have hours of video of the interviews to go through. The judge is deciding right now how much of it will be admissible in court. What she allows can make or break our case.”

“How?” Bucky asks.

“We have a lot of things on our side. You are a war hero. You were Captain America’s right hand man. We can prove they strapped you to a chair and ran a current through your brain. We cannot definitively prove that this removed your memory, but I have no doubts the jury will believe that fact.

“All of these are good things. Things that will sway the jury in our favor.

“On the other hand, you ran away when being pursued by German Special Forces. We have yet to prove that you did not bomb the U.N. The King of Wakanda has been asking for your extradition since you’ve been arrested. And now we have five more Winter Soldiers, which you knew about but did not disclose. It’s easy to understand how they could have slipped your mind, but the persecution will try to convince the jury there is no way you could’ve forgotten about them. They’ll make you look complicit,” Harper explains.

“I guess we just hope for the best,” Steve says.

Bucky nods and looks down at the floor.

 

XxX

 

Steve wakes up because Bucky is whimpering.

There’s always a little light in the cell and Steve can see Bucky is still asleep. He’s tangled up in his sheets, his hair plastered to his face with sweat and he keeps making tiny, hurt noises in the back of his throat.

“Buck,” Steve says, reaching out to push Bucky’s hair out of his face. “You’re dreaming, wake up.”

Bucky snaps awake, his hand grabbing Steve’s wrist hard enough to bruise.

“Sorry,” he says and lets go, grimacing as he moves.

“You okay?”

“I,” Bucky starts and then looks past Steve and to the bars above their heads. “I was dreaming about Siberia,” he says. Then he looks down at himself. “Damn it,” he says and Steve notices the problem. Bucky’s sheets are soaked.

He goes to sit up, but he’s clearly in pain, struggling and grimacing.

Steve pulls the wet blankets away from him and helps him sit up. Bucky blushes and won’t look Steve in the face.

“This is so humiliating. Can you give me more of the pills?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods, fetching the painkillers and a cup of water. He watches Bucky swallow them before saying anything more.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, feeling rote like a broken record.

Bucky gives him a tiny, fake smile. “I know. You keep reminding me.”

“I just. I feel helpless. You know how much I hate that.”

“You’re plenty helpful. Who would clean up my messes if you weren’t here?” Bucky says.

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve replies, but then he helps Buck up.

Bucky doesn’t want to worry about taking a shower again. He’s tired and he hurts so Steve just wipes him down with a wet towel and helps him redress in clean clothes.

“You going to let me sleep with you?” Bucky asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“Of course,” Steve says.

Steve lies down on his bunk first and then pulls Bucky on top of him. Bucky shifts around for a moment, getting comfortable and then goes right back to sleep with his head on Steve’s chest.

Steve stays up for another hour or so, just basking in it.

 

XxX

 

The interviews from the other Soldiers and the other information recovered from Siberia is just as bad, if not worse, than Harper had expected.

Apparently, they had not wanted to speak to anyone except Natasha. And only because Natasha had convinced them that she was still a Red Room operative.

It turned out that the female Winter Soldier, Tesla Tarasova, was a Red Room operative as well. She had been lent to HYDRA for a mission and then allowed to stay on since she worked so well with the rest of the team.

She spoke freely with Natasha about the Winter Soldier project. About how excited she was to be apart of it, how it was superior to the Black Widows of the Red Room due to the serum. How she hoped, someday, the two projects would work together.

When asked about Bucky, she told them that Barnes (although she called him The First Soldier) was always intended to be a prototype for the Winter Soldiers. She claimed he knew this all along and that he was gladly training her and the others so that HYDRA could expand its control quicker and more easily than it could with only the one soldier.

Natasha, with Tesla’s help, was able to get the other Soldiers to speak to her.

They also claimed that Bucky had been glad to train them. They said they viewed him as their superior officer and would follow any of his commands.

“They were brainwashed,” Bucky says, solemnly, after the video of Tesla’s conversation with Natasha was played in court.  “They didn’t know the whole story about me. _I_ didn’t know the whole story about me. Besides, they were real HYDRA believers, so they never would have suspected that I was there against my will.”

“I’m going to do my best to explain that,” Harper assures him. “It’s difficult because we can’t cross examine them in front of the court. However, they weren’t created until the 90’s and we can argue that you had 50 years of brainwashing before they ever came into the picture. So, even if you did happily train them to be HYDRA’s most elite deathsquad, it wasn’t really _you_.

“However, I think a character witness would help me prove that, deep down, when you are really yourself, you are the American war hero we all believe you to be.”

“Character witness?” Bucky asks.

“Steve, of course,” Harper says. “I’m going to put Steve on the stand and have him talk about how wonderful you are.”

“You think that’s a good idea? I mean, he did help me run away from the U.N.,” Bucky says.

“You mean that he sided with an innocent man being wrongly persecuted by international, governmental body that actually had no intentions of pressing charges against him and, instead, had ordered a German Special Forces team – operating well outside of their jurisdiction – to shoot him on sight?

“If you ask me, that sort of behavior sounds exactly like the kind of thing Captain America would do. We celebrated Cap when he walked American soldiers out of POW camps in Austria. We celebrated him when he helped stop New York City from being leveled by aliens. I think people will celebrate him for saving America’s longest-suffering prisoner of war.”

 

XxX

 

Steve gets them both up early on the day he’s due to appear in court. They shower together, Steve holding him close under the spray and working his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

After, he helps Bucky dress with a sort of reverence, sitting on his knees in front of Bucky and doing up the buttons on his shirt. He gently brushes Bucky’s hair and ties it back for him.

“I’m not totally helpless, Rogers,” Bucky says when Steve brings over their breakfast trays.

“I know,” Steve says. “But you took care of me for so long, I don’t mind returning the favor.”

Bucky shakes his head at Steve. “What are you going to tell the court about me?” Bucky asks.

“Only the good stuff,” Steve replies, tying his shoes. “I’ll leave out the part where you hog the covers.”

“Like you’re so perfect,” Bucky jokes back. “I was lucky if you would wash your own dirty dishes back in the day.”

Steve just winks at him. “I’m not the one on trial.”

“Good, Harper would have a much harder time defending your behavior.”

“Don’t I know it. I’m simply the worst,” Steve says and then kisses him. When they break, he keeps his nose pressed against Bucky’s, just breathing him in.

“In all seriousness,” Steve says, his voice low. “I’m glad I get to talk to them about you. I’m glad I get to tell them what kind of man you are and how much I love you.”

Bucky buries his face in Steve’s neck, blushing down the back of his neck. Steve strokes his back gently.

They’re sitting there like that when the door opens and Daniels comes in.

“It’s time,” he says.

Steve gets up. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says to Bucky and then gives him a chaste kiss on the lips before approaching the inner door. Daniels nods to the camera and the inner door unlocks. Steve steps through it, shuts behind him and hears it lock before the outer one unlocks.

Before he leaves, he takes one more look at Bucky, sitting in a gray suit, looking down at his feet so he won’t have to watch Steve leave.

 

XxX

 

The whole courtroom feels quieter when Steve takes the stand. The tension and the pressure are both high.

Everyone wants to hear what Captain America has to say about his best friend becoming a Soviet Assassin.

Harper begins by lowballing him a few questions.

“How long have you known James Barnes?”

“Since we were kids,” Steve says.  “I think we meet when I was six and he was seven.”

“How did you meet?”

“Well, we both lived in Brooklyn at the time. My father died before I was born, in WWI,” he says. “So, growing up, it was just me and my Ma. One day, she was very sick and couldn’t leave the apartment. She gave me some money and sent me to the store so I could buy vegetables. I was a rather scrawny kid and an older kid tried to rob me,” Steve says. “We didn’t have much, I wasn’t going to just hand over my mother’s money to the punk so I ended up in a fight I was not big enough to handle. Out of nowhere, this other kid comes up and just punches my bully in the face and sends him running off, crying. That kid who saved me was Bucky. He walked me to the store and back and came by to check on me and my Ma the next day. I guess we were inseparable ever since.”

“So you would say that, even as a kid, Sergeant Barnes had a strong understanding of right and wrong?” Harper asks.

“Of course. Bucky might not have sought out fights the way I did, but he always put his neck out on the line for what he thought was right. He always stood up for people. I mean, he was rescued from a POW camp and, a few days later, rejoined the battle. He always did what was right.”

“So you think it is accurate to say that Sergeant Barnes would never willingly commit an act of violence against his country or countrymen?” Harper asks.

“I think that is completely accurate,” Steve says. “He was willing to die for his country. I think, like me, he did die for his country. But he was brought back to life by the wrong group of people. If Bucky had been found by Americans, he would’ve gone right back into the battle, on the U.S.’s side. Bucky is a victim of a horrible time and place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers,” Harper says. “No more questions.”

Lintz is quick to his feet.

“What is the nature of your relationship with Barnes?”

“Now?” Steve clarifies.

“Yes, what is your current relationship with Sergeant Barnes?”

“James Barnes is my friend and partner.”

“Partner?” Lintz asks, a fake look of surprise on his face.

“Bucky and I have been in a romantic relationship since the late thirties. You can imagine how unsafe it was for that information to be common knowledge in ‘40s, which is why you are only learning this now.”

“So you are telling the court that you are in love with Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t worry that this would cloud your judgment?”

“Of course not. I know Bucky.”

“Yet, we have video of Barnes bombing the U.N. and you dropped all your duty and responsibility to America and to the world, to help him evade law enforcement.”

“No one has proved that Bucky was the one who bombed the U.N. Video can be doctored, appearances can be changed. German Special Forces was given orders to shoot Bucky on sight. In my mind, I was protecting a potentially innocent man.”

“We have no proof that the German team was given orders to shoot Barnes on sight.”

“The order was given verbally,” Steve says.

“We are supposed to take your word on that, Mr. Rogers? You and your team have been operating outside the law for years, and the first time a governing body tries to set up some guidelines for the behavior of so-called superheroes, you go AWOL with a Soviet Assassin.”

“You are deliberately misconstruing what happened,” Steve says.

“I am merely stating facts.”

 

XxX

 

“That could’ve gone better,” Bucky says when Steve returns that night.

Steve stands in the middle of the cell with his tie loosened but otherwise doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he says. “I thought if I could tell them how much I love you, they would understand.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says. “Some of them will, I think. Besides.” Bucky smiles a little bit. “It’s kind of nice to have the fact that we are a couple on an official record.”

Steve looks at him then. “You like that?”

“I like knowing that you love me. I don’t think I’m worth all this, but I like that you think I am. I like that other people know you love me, because it makes me feel like maybe I am worth it. I dunno, Steve. It’s hard to explain.”

“You are worth it.”

“I hope you still think that when this is all over.”

“Of course,” Steve says.

“Come here,” Bucky says with a wave and Steve sits next to him. Bucky puts his arm around him and presses his face into Steve’s neck. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

 

XxX

 

The last witness Harper calls is Natasha.

She talks extensively about her time in the Red Room. She talks about how little power she had, how Department X manipulated her mind. How difficult it was for her to be deprogrammed from their training.

Lintz points out that Natasha was born to them, of course. Bucky, however, was born and raised in the U.S.

He argues that their backgrounds are not similar enough for Bucky to have succumbed to the brainwashing Natasha did.

She’s fuming when she leaves the stand but in a restrained way that makes it difficult for anyone but people who really know her to tell.

After that, the defense rests.

 

XxX

 

“On Monday we will give closing statements and the jury will deliberate,” Harper says when he comes by that night. “They will deliberate from several days to weeks.”

“What do you think they will decide?” Bucky asks.

Harper shifts his weight minutely. He hesitates and Bucky notices.

“It’s hard to say,” Harper says. “There is a lot of sympathy for you. A lot of citizens have taken your side and are defending you in the news. But Lintz made some decent arguments as well. I don’t want to give you false hope and say we have this completely in the bag. I think there are legitimate reasons to worry.

“But I believe in the justice system,” Harper continues. “I have to believe that the jury will do what is right with the evidence presented to them. I think if they are reasonable, compassionate people, they will find you not guilty.”

Bucky nods.

“And there is always the appeal process if the verdict goes the other way,” Harper says. “I am in this fight till the end, Bucky. I’m not going to let them condemn you.”

Bucky nods. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Harper nods. “I am going to go prepare my closing statement. Of course, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Harper leaves them alone.

Steve looks up at the camera and the windows before turning back to Bucky and saying very quietly, “I’ll bust you out.”

“Steve,” Bucky groans.

Steve doesn’t repeat it, but Bucky knows him.

He’s not lying.

 

XxX

 

The closing statements are hard to watch.

Lintz summarizes his argument that Bucky was in control of himself the whole time. That he gladly killed for HYDRA and trained others to do the same.

Harper, of course, states that Bucky was tortured, starved, traumatized and brainwashed. That no one could have withstood HYDRA’s tactics and Bucky is just a POW finally returned from captivity.

Then the jury is dismissed to deliberate and it’s completely out of their hands.

“So that’s that,” Bucky says when the feed is cut and Steve shuts the TV off.

“I hate waiting,” Steve says.

“Everyone does.”

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” Steve says.

“You’ve done everything you could. You stood up for me. You locked yourself up for me. You came out for me. You saved me,” Bucky says. “You didn’t kill me that day on the hellicarrier and you could’ve.”

“I should’ve gotten to you sooner,” Steve says.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone on the riverbank,” Bucky replies. “But it’s all said and done now.”

 

XxX

 

They spend three weeks in that state of suspended animation. After the first few days, something about it becomes less stressful. They both finally accept that it’s completely out of their hands and instead of sitting around worrying, they fill their time talking. It’s like they are getting to know each other all over again for the first time.

Steve tells Bucky about everything that’s happened to him since waking up in the 21st century and Bucky shares the less painful memories of his time with HYDRA.

They talk about the people they knew before – what happened to the neighborhood kids they grew up alongside, what happened to the men in that queer bar they went to once in a blue moon, what happened to the rest of the Howlies.

It’s easy, somehow. Comfortable and comforting at the same time. Steve never stopped loving Bucky, but sitting there, learning about him all over again, he finds himself falling in love again. The heart-in-your-throat, can’t look away kind of love. And, judging by the way Bucky laughs at his jokes and blushes at his compliments, Bucky feels the same.

It would be lovely to stay there in that secluded reality where it’s just them, but reality sents in too soon and, on the fourth Tuesday morning after closing statements, Harper shows up and tells them it’s over.

The jury has reached a decision.

“In the morning, we will know what they’ve decided,” Harper says. He looks worried; it’s not comforting.

Steve reaches for Bucky’s hand, squeezes it.

 

XxX

 

They don’t really sleep that night.  Bucky can’t stop tossing and turning. He asks for painkillers. He asks Steve to help him to the bathroom and back to bed. He asks for more water.

He lies on his side and pulls the blankets up around him, tucks his knees in close to his chest and shivers. Then he rolls over and then lays flat on his back and then rolls back to his side again.

“Buck?” Steve asks after a moment.

Bucky makes a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asks.

Bucky looks at him a moment and then nods. “Bring your blanket,” he adds.

Steve drags his blanket over and carefully swings his leg over Bucky, spooning up to Bucky with his back to the bars. Bucky pushes himself so they are snug together, the blankets trapping their body heat. Steve is warm, almost too warm, but he can feel Bucky still shivering against him.

Steve waits a few moments to see if he calms down and when he doesn’t, wraps his arm around him tighter and holds him as close as physically possible.

“I got you,” he says, quietly, right in Bucky’s ear. He kisses Bucky on the back of the neck. “We will get through this.”

Bucky nods, his one hand coming up to curl around Steve’s wrist.

“I’m scared,” he says.

“I know,” Steve replies. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

 

XxX

 

Bucky spills juice on himself in the morning. He’s nervous but pliant enough when Steve helps him dress, brushes his hair and pulls it back for him.

Steve dresses too and they sit together before the feed starts.

Steve turns Bucky towards him and holds Bucky’s hand in both of his.

“No matter what happens,” Steve says. “I’m with you. I will always be with you.”

Bucky nods, wets his lips. “I know,” he says. “To the end of the line, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “To the end of the line.” The he leans in, kisses him sweet and chaste, and Bucky relaxes marginally.

Then the feed turns on. Bucky rights himself, faces the camera but Steve laces their fingers together.

They watch the courthouse fill. Harper and Lintz at their respective tables and the sea of faces behind them – relatives of the Winter Soldier’s victims or Steve’s friends.

They are quieted when the judge enters and addresses the jury.

The foreman is a white man in his late fifties. He hands the judge a sheet of paper and she looks it over before handing it back.

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand.

The man clears his throat before he speaks. “We the jury find the defendant guilty on all counts.”

The room erupts into noise but Bucky doesn’t move, he doesn’t even blink.

Harper looks on with disbelief and Lintz isn’t amused either. The judge finally gets the room into order, everyone quieting down.

The judge sets a date for sentencing.

There is a little bit more noise through the room and then it’s over. The feed cuts off.

“ _Buck_ ,” Steve says, his voice breaking with disbelief and his eyes already filling with tears.

Bucky looks down at his hand. His fingers relaxed, curling in, his shoulder slumped.

“It’s fitting,” he says.

“Bucky,” Steve says again like it’s the only word he can think of. He’s pressing his face in close to Bucky’s face, and, against all odds, Bucky is smiling at him. It’s not a happy smile. It’s the sort of smile someone with nothing left to give would drudge up.

“People are dead,” Bucky says. “All those SHEILD agents I killed, just a few years ago, and then went on the run. Those men and women were people’s family. Those wounds are still fresh. They want blood.”

Steve’s skin is damp where it touches Bucky. He is crying now. “But that doesn’t mean they should get _yours_.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says. “I don’t blame them. It’s symbolic. They can’t put a face to HYDRA so they’ll use mine instead.”

“But it’s not your _fault_ ,” Steve says, just like he’s said it before.

“I know,” Bucky says, reaching out to pull Steve against him. “I know. It’s not. But I’m okay. It’s okay. I don’t blame them. I’m all right with this decision.”

Steve pulls himself out of Bucky’s embrace and leaps to his feet. “Well, I’m not!” he says, his voice echoing off the metal ceiling and walls. “You were kidnapped and tortured and they’re going to blame you for it like you had any power.”

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Calm down.”

“No!” Steve shouts, then quiets his voice a little. “No, I won’t calm down. This isn’t right. It’s supposed to be right.”

They are saved by the door opening and Harper walking in. He looks grim and gray around the edges.

“I agree with you, Mr. Rogers,” Harper says. “Which is why I’m going to file an appeal at the first chance I get.”

Bucky sags back against the bars. “I don’t want you to file an appeal,” he says.

Steve stares at him gape-mouthed and Harper raises an eyebrow.

“We’ve been at this for months,” Bucky says. “You brought in character witnesses and professional witnesses, you had documents and history and your argument was very good. You’re a great lawyer. But I’m done. I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Steve asks, his voice full of fury.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bucky says.

Steve stares at him, speechless.

Bucky deflates a little. “HYDRA had me for seventy years. Before that there was the war, before that the depression and homophobia and growing up and… I’m 100 years old, Steve. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

There is a sound behind them as Harper leaves the room.

Steve sits down on the end of his bed. “I don’t understand,” he says, much more calmly than before. “Please, help me understand.”

“You never asked what I wanted,” Bucky says.

Steve takes a breath. He softens all around the edges. “What do you want?” he asks.

“I want it to be over,” Bucky says. “I thought it was. I pulled you from the river and I killed every HYDRA agent I could and I thought it was over. I thought I could rest. That’s all I wanted, for this century-long nightmare to be over.”

“HYDRA is over. For you, at least.”

“I’m still living the nightmare,” Bucky says.

“They could sentence you to death.”

“I’ve been dead before.”

“Not really. Not forever.”

“I might like that,” Bucky says and looks thoughtful. “No one can wake me up and take me away from myself and make me kill again. If they execute me now, I’ll get to die as James Buchanan Barnes. Not some nameless, Soviet monster all alone somewhere.”

“What will I do? Without you?” Steve asks, his voice so small.

Bucky reaches across the space between them and laces their fingers together. “You will go back to being Captain America. Or not. You could go into politics, become president. Or maybe finally go to art school. Or advocate for gay rights. Or whatever the hell you want. You’re not their puppet anymore, Stevie. You could do anything.”

“I want you though.”

Bucky kisses his hand but doesn’t respond to that.


	3. Chapter 3

 

“I was afforded the rare opportunity to speak to the jury foreman,” Harper says. He’s not making eye contact as he speaks. “There were a few things that really affected the jury. First of all, you ran away after the events surrounding Project Insight. Even with all the doctors I brought in, they still could not bring themselves to understand why you wouldn’t have stayed and turned yourself in.”

Bucky nods, his face stony.

“Then there was the bombing at the U.N., of course. They were unable to prove it was you – which is why you were never formally charged – but we also couldn’t prove, at least not to the extent the jury wanted – that it  _ wasn’t _ you either,” Harper says and then takes a breath.

“Then there were the other soldiers and everything surrounding them. But the nail in the coffin was Tesla’s testimony. She said you were their leader. The jury believed her.

“Finally, your inability to appear in court was seen as smugness on your part. Even though we explained to the jury that your physical absence from the courtroom should not affect their decision, it did. They viewed it as you not taking the trial and the things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier seriously enough.”

Harper pauses, shifts his weight. He looks absolutely dejected. “I am sorry, Sergeant Barnes. This was not only the most important case of my career, this was one of the most important cases in American history and I let you down and I let the American people down. I don’t believe you did anything for HYDRA of your own volition and I am sorry I was unable to effectively communicate that to the jury and to the world.”

Bucky nods, chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Don’t apologize. You’ve done more for me in the past few months than anyone else has in the last century.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harper says.

Bucky shakes his head. “I do. And I’m okay. This is okay,” he assures him. “I understand why they reached the decision they did.”

“I’m prepared to file appeals,” Harper says.

“I know,” Bucky replies and smiles. “But it won’t be necessary. You’ve done your part. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I understand,” Harper says. Then he stands there awkwardly for a moment like the conversation didn’t go the way he expected.

“I want to say,” he finally starts speaking again. “That it has been an honor to represent you, Sergeant Barnes. And I also want to say – thank you for your service to our country.”

Bucky just gives him a solemn smile and nods.

 

XxX

 

“They could just give me life in prison,” Bucky says. They are lying face to face on his bunk with the blankets pulled up over their head. Steve still has his shirt off but they’ve both pulled their pants back up after fooling around.

Steve fumbles for Bucky’s hand to kiss it.

“If this is the only cell they can keep you in, I’ll stay.”

“You’re a fool,” Bucky says.

“I always have been.”

Eventually they have to get up and make themselves presentable. They’ve been in that cell long enough to have developed an easy routine. Steve gives Bucky his painkillers and then gets the showered started, helps him shower and shave and dress and then one of the guards brings them breakfast.

It’s difficult to eat. Today’s the day they will know what’s coming next and Steve finds himself barely able to sit still. Bucky barely eats and Steve wants to fret over him but restrains himself.

Then it’s time for them to sit before the webcam one last time and watch the livestream unfold.

Before sentencing victim impact statements are read out.

Bucky has never hated himself more.

The daughter of a man he killed on the hellicarrier reads a heartbreaking letter about having to walk down the aisle alone on her wedding day, when she’d always planned on her father being there.

Several others speak, telling about their loved ones they now have to live without – all victims of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wants to cry alongside them, for the things that have been done, the things that  _ he  _ did. But he feels it would be manipulative and cruel for them to see him like that, so he stares down at his hands and lets the words wash over him.

The last victim speaks and then it’s time.

The judge leans back in her chair, silent for a moment and then looks up and addresses Bucky directly.

She reads formally and emotionlessly from a page in front of, detailing everything that Bucky has been found guilty of – conspiring against America, murder, treason.

She gets to the end and finally says, “You have been found guilty and will be sentenced to death…”

Bucky feels hot all over and he can’t hear whatever else she says over the rushing of blood through his ears.

She speaks for several more minutes, and then it’s over.

They’re going to execute him.

The feed cuts off but Bucky doesn’t move. He’s thinking about it all. About Germany and Italy. About that bunker in Siberia and the countless other places they held them.

He thinks about the men on the hellicarrier. How he was just like them once – a man serving his country.

Beside him, Steve is crying. It’s ugly crying but he’s completely silent and shaking all over. Snot and tears running down his face, dripping from his chin.

Bucky watches him a moment and then hushes him.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls Steve to him.

Steve falls heavily against him, buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Bucky says.

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and pulls them in close together. Bucky’s lone arm curls around Steve’s back to pet at his hair. He hushes Steve, rocks him a little.

“I can’t,” Steve says after a long moment of crying silent. “I can’t lose you again. Not again. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

Bucky pulls him back to hold his face in the palm of his hand. He thumbs away a few scattered tears.

“You can. You’ll be fine. You don’t need me. You survived without me, you’ll do it again.”

“I put a plane in the arctic without you.”

Bucky nods. “After that, you survived.”

“I might’ve survived, but I wasn’t really  _ alive _ ,” Steve says.

Bucky kisses him, gentle, softly, on the side of his face. “You’ll be fine. You have all your new friends and there’s so much you can offer the world.”

“Fuck the world,” Steve says, very quietly. “If I can’t have you, I don’t want any of it.”

Bucky can’t think of anything to say to that, so he just pulls Steve back into his chest and lets him cry.

 

XxX

 

In the morning, one of SHIELD’s medics comes to take Bucky’s blood. She’s accompanied by Maria and several guards.

Bucky doesn’t struggle. He lays his arm out flat for her and lets her take two vials.

“What’s this for?” Bucky asks.

Maria looks absolutely dejected and won’t meet Bucky’s eye when she speaks. “Our team needs a better look at your biology to determine what drug will work best,” she says.

“Work best for what?” Steve asks.

Maria looks at him then, helpless, not wanting to say it out loud. But, ever the professional, she takes a breath and breaks eyes contact.

“What drug will be best to painlessly put down a supersoldier, permanently,” she says.

“You built this cell in case things went wrong, I’m surprised you hadn’t come up with something that would kill me already,” Steve says, his voice scathing.

“I never planned to have to kill you or Barnes,” Maria says.

Before Steve can say anything else, Bucky asks, “When will they do it?”

Maria shakes her head. “I don’t know. They want to keep the date secret to minimize protests or potential attacks,” she says. “But it should be several months. They want to wait till it has faded a little from the public’s mind.”

“Yeah, why would the public want to concern themselves with the killing of a war hero?” Steve asks.

“Can you arrange for me to see the sun again sometime before?” Bucky asks, distracting Maria from Steve’s remarks.

“That will be more up to Daniels and Fury, but I’ll see what I can do,” Maria says and leaves.

“I haven’t seen the sun in months,” Bucky says.

Steve sinks to his knees in front of Bucky, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s legs. “You don’t have to give up,” he says. “We can fight this.”

“Steve,” Bucky says. “This is what I want.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “How can you just let them… let them do this to you?”

“I told you,” Bucky says. “I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of… everything,” he says and then gives a tiny smile. “Except you, of course. But I’m old. There’s so much blood on my hands, regardless if it’s my fault or not. And now… I have one arm, I can barely walk. I wet the bed most nights.”

“You are not the one to say that disability makes you less of a person,” Steve scolds sternly. Bucky had taken care of him when he was small and sickly without ever behaving as though he thought Steve was less than.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean, I don’t know that I want to deal with it for another… god knows how long we’ll live, Steve.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Steve promises.

“I know you will,” Bucky says. “But that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?” Steve asks.

Bucky smiles. “That’s the million dollar question.”

“You said no one ever asked you want you wanted. Well, I’m asking you. Bucky, tell me what you want.”

Bucky smiles at him, small but warm. “I want to rest. I want to feel like my body is my body. I want someone to tell me that I did all right. The war, all those years with HYDRA, no one ever told me that I was doing well, that they were happy with me, proud of me.

“It’s silly to say out loud,” Bucky says and Steve shakes his head, all wide-eyed and eager to listen to him. “But that’s what I want. I want you, or someone, to say that I did a good job and that it’s over. Everything is over and I can rest now.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve says. He presses his face into the fabric of Bucky’s pants, against his thigh. “You don’t need to die to rest.”

Bucky lays his hand gently on the back of Steve’s head. “I know,” he says. “But it’s the only way I can be really sure it’s over.”

Steve looks up at him with his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “You want to die?” he asks, very gently.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he says, “I guess so. It’s not so much a want but a comfort in knowing that it’ll be over and that I won’t die horrifically somewhere, ordered to fight against my will or taken apart for science. And I’ll know that it’s real and over and not HYDRA just putting me away like a forgotten toy and leaving me to rot in the ice somewhere.”

Steve’s grip tightens on Bucky and then loosens a little. “Okay,” he says. “If it… if it’s really what you want.”

That night, Steve lies down practically on top of Bucky – his ear to Bucky’s chest. Bucky hums and runs his fingers through Steve’s hair till he falls asleep.

 

XxX

 

Bucky lays back in the grass and closes his eyes.  There is a courtyard at the new SHIELD headquarters and Maria has bent over backwards to allow Bucky some time in the sun, arguing that even prisoners in solitary confinement get an hour of recreation a day.

Daniels had eventually agreed, with the stipulation that Bucky only be allowed out while heavily guarded and that Steve had to stay behind.

Bucky didn’t blame them for the stipulation and yeah, he’d prefer Steve be there with him, but it was nice nevertheless to lay out in the sun and just… be.

It wasn’t the ideal ending. Far from it. He thought he would die in the war and he didn’t. Or he did, but not fully. He knew, someday, that HYDRA would be rid of him and it was awful to not know  _ when _ or how.

There was some comfort in this, in knowing how it would end and that it  _ would _ end.

So he lays in the grass for an hour under the scrutiny of many SHIELD agents before being returned to Steve, down in the basement.

Steve is chewing on the edge of his thumb when Bucky returns. He stops, shakes his hand off and waits for all the doors to lock and them to be alone before speaking.

“How was it?” he asks. “You look relaxed.”

Bucky sighs contently. “SHIELD treats me better than HYDRA ever did,” Bucky replies.

Steve looks like he wants to say something to that but thinks better of it. “I want to talk to you about something,” he says.

Bucky sits on the edge of his bed and takes off his shoes. “About what?”

Steve glances around nervously and Bucky sits up straighter, narrowing his eyes. “You have a stupid plan of some sort, don’t you?” Bucky says.

“No,” Steve replies, defensively. “Well, maybe.”

“We already talked about this,” Bucky says.

“No, we haven’t.”

“A new stupid plan?”

Steve smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “A new stupid plan.”

Before Bucky can say anything, Steve cups his hand around Bucky’s jaw and leans in to kiss him, hard and deep.

“Oh,” Bucky says, breathlessly. “ _ That _ kind of plan.” He smirks at Steve.

Steve runs the pad of his thumb over Bucky’s lips. “I think we should get married,” he says.

Bucky startles back like he’s been shocked. “What?”

Steve sits beside him and tries to take his hand but Bucky doesn’t let him. “It’s legal now,” Steve says. “I think we should. I love you. I have always loved you. I want to marry you. I want you to be my husband. I want to be your husband.”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “I want everyone to know that I love you. That I chose you. That I will always choose you.”

“I think they already know that, Steve,” Bucky says. “You ran half way around the world to save me twice. You don’t need a piece of paper to tell everyone that I’m the one you love.”

“It’s more than that,” Steve says. “If we marry, then we’ll be family. Legitimately family. And I’ll…” Steve stops talking and looks away.

“You’ll what?” Bucky asks.

“I’ll get to plan your funeral,” he says.

“Oh,” Bucky says quietly.

“You have no living relatives,” Steve explains. “The State will settle your affairs. I don’t want that. You’re the love of my life. I can’t think about them just… treating you with disregard…” Steve shakes his head, lost for words.

“I understand,” Bucky says and leans in to kiss Steve, very gently, very chastely, right under his ear. “So you’re going to stop trying to convince me to appeal?”

Steve doesn’t look happy but he nods. “You’ve made your decision. I’m miserable with it but it’s your decision, Buck. I love you and I want to marry you simply because I love you but also so they can’t take you away from me, again.”

“You’re a sap,” Bucky says.

“Don’t you know it,” Steve replies.

“So how do we do it? Just get a priest down here? What about flowers and cake? Who will walk you down the aisle, Stevie?”

Steve gives him a nudge with his shoulder. “Doesn’t have to be anything that fancy. A couple of witnesses and a minister and we just sign the papers.”

“Oh, I see, you don’t want to spend money on your best guy.”

“Don’t go twisting my words,” Steve jokes.

“Alright, Stevie. That’s fine with me. I’ll sign the papers.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You gotta—we gotta do it right.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve slides off the bed and onto his knees. He takes Bucky’s hand in his and looks up at him, all sincere and soft.

“James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?”

Bucky smiles at him and nods. “Yes, Steve. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Steve surges up and kisses him again.

 

XxX

 

They decide to make it official as soon as possible. Which means they will get married the following week, since Daniels will need to approve the few people coming to bear witness and Steve sends Sam to buy rings.

He says they can’t get married without rings even though Bucky doesn’t care either way.

Steve doesn’t want them to wear the suits they wore to the trial – he says their wedding, in spite of everything, should be happy and not a reminder of all the things gone wrong.

Bucky just sighs and says he doesn’t care that much and doesn’t want to go through a suit fitting.

Steve, eventually, acquiesces.

On the morning of, Steve finds himself oddly giddy, in spite of everything. He’s getting  _ married _ . He’s getting married to the man he’s loved his whole life.

He wakes up skin-to-skin with Bucky, both of them only in their shorts and the air is chilly but it’s okay. He kisses the back of Bucky’s neck and the curve of his spine and Bucky makes a sleepy, pleased noise in the back of his throat.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Steve says.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at him. “Was that to imply that I will be Mr. Rogers tonight?”

Steve arches an eyebrow at him. “We never did discuss names, did we?”

“You wanna be Mr. Barnes?”

“Maybe,” Steve says, looking thoughtful.

“How about we keep our own names like good, modern folk.”

“You’re such a romantic, James.”

“Shut it, Rogers,” Bucky says and then looks down at himself. “Fuck it. Help me get up.”

Steve almost falls on his face climbing over Bucky to stand up and then help Bucky.

Bucky goes, groaning and cursing the whole time. When he’s standing, unsteady, on his feet, Steve curls his hand over Bucky’s back, his fingers gentle over the scars there.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Like I got shot in the back,” Bucky says.

Steve nuzzles into him.

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky assures him. “It’s no worse than usual. Just give me my pills.”

Steve nods and fetches them for him with a glass of water. Bucky swallows them and then braces himself up by his hand on a shelf.

“I don’t think I can stand in the shower if you want me to have the energy to stand later,” Bucky admits quietly.

“It’s fine,” Steve says and leads him over to the shower. He helps Bucky sit down and makes sure the spray is warm before kneeling beside him and working shampoo into his hair.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky says.

“Hush,” Steve replies. “None of this is your fault.”

“I feel like it is.”

“Well. Stop it. We’re getting married today. Stop blaming yourself for one day.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Too bad we won’t get a honeymoon.”

“You already took me to Paris once,” Steve says.

“Doesn’t count if it was in the middle of a war.”

“Okay. Huh,” Steve says. “Well, you did take me to Serbia.”

“Serbia  _ is _ known to be the second-most romantic place in the world after Paris,” Bucky says.

“See? It’s fine. Besides, we’ll find a way to make it romantic.” Steve waggles his eyebrows at Bucky and Bucky laughs.

 

XxX

 

They’ve asked Harper to officiate.

Steve thought he was going to cry when he asked but Harper held it together.

Maria and Fury have come down from their offices to watch but their witnesses are Sam and Natasha.

Natasha brings cupcakes and a small package that has clearly been rewrapped after the guards went through it. She has her hair curled neatly and she’s wearing a tight, black dress.

Sam’s dressed in his Sunday best and comes with the rings as well. “I never thought I’d get to be Captain America’s best man,” he says.

“What are you talking about,” Steve replies. “Nat is my best man. You’re the maid of honor.”

“Ha ha,” Sam deadpans. “But seriously, congrats,” he says and shakes Steve hand.

Nat kisses him on the cheek and congratulates him also before turning to Bucky.

“You look good,” she says.

Bucky smiles. “Thanks. Steve really knows how to tie a tie.”

“He’s a keeper, for sure,” Natasha says. “You better take care of him.”

“For as long as I can,” Bucky promises, his smile suddenly watery around the edges.

Nat looks over at Sam and Steve talking before sitting next to him. She leans in and kisses him on the cheek and, before pulling away, says, “I’ll spring you.”  She leans back. “If you want,” she adds. “I never meant for all this to happen.”

Bucky just shakes his head. “I know you didn’t. And it’s okay. I don’t want you to. And I don’t blame you for anything that happened. I’m glad you are here. And you better look after Steve when this is all over.”

She gives his hand a squeeze. “You can count on it.”

They didn’t want anything long or religious. Harper has them stand in the middle of the cell. Steve and Bucky facing each other, holding hands. Maria and Fury outside, looking stoic as ever and perhaps a bit nervous – like they are expecting something to happen with two supersoldiers, the Falcon and the Black Widow on site.

But no, nothing dramatic happens. It’s almost domestic, even.

“You two have waited a long time for this,” Harper says. “So I won’t make you wait any longer.”

He gets right to the vows, making them promise to love each other for better or worse, richer or poorer,  sickness and health, until death do they part.

Steve cries when he says the final line. An ugly, blubbering sort of crying and Bucky rubs his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand until Steve manages to collect himself.

Steve’s hand shakes when he puts the ring on Bucky’s hand and when Bucky goes to return the favor, Steve has to concentrate to keep his fingers steady.

The bands are plain gold and matching. Steve chose to have Bucky put it on his right hand to match Bucky and he likes the way their fingers look intertwined.

“You may kiss,” Harper says.

Steve blushes and leans in and kisses Bucky chastely.

“Congratulations,” Harper says. “You are husband and husband.”

Steve helps Bucky sit down while Natasha serves cupcakes.

Fury approaches the bars and addresses Steve. “It’s about time someone made an honest man out of you,” he says and gives Steve one, long, heavy look full of all the things he’s not saying. “I have to get back to work but, congrats.”

Steve nods. “Thanks, Fury,” he says.

Maria says something similar before also heading out.

Natasha sits beside Steve and somehow manages to make eating a cupcake look graceful. “What are you going to tell the media?” she asks.

“Fuck the media,” Steve replies.

“You don’t want to scandalize the nation with our century old love affair, Stevie?” Bucky asks, nudging Steve with his shoulder.

“Hey, we were born a century ago so I don’t think our love is a century old just yet, Buck.”

“Close enough.”

“Stevie?” Sam asks, incredulously.

“You shut it,” Steve says.

“Whatever you say, Stevie.”

Bucky turns to Sam and levels a Winter Soldier sort of stare onto him. “Only I get to call him that.”

“All right, all right. He’s all yours, Barnes.”

“I know. He just can’t resist all this,” Bucky says, making a sweeping motion at himself.

“Speaking of which,” Natasha says. “Wait till we leave before opening that package.”

“I think she scandalized every guard on this level,” Sam says.

“Not my fault Americans are prude,” Natasha quips.

 

XxX

 

Nat and Sam stayed until the guards brought dinner and made them leave.

Steve passes Bucky his tray and laughs. They have been served soup and sandwiches because that’s what the cafeteria was serving that day.

“Not exactly the wedding meal I had in mind, but it’ll do.”

“What did you imagine?” Bucky asks.

“Steak,” he says. “At your wedding, of course. I assumed I would die alone somewhere.”

“Like I would marry some girl and leave you alone,” Bucky says.

“We never really talked about it, back then, did we?”

“I guess not. I didn’t want to think about it. I liked our flat. I liked our life, regardless. I didn’t want it to change. I wanted to be with you.” He looks melancholy, like he’s gone off somewhere.

“Buck?”

“I never got to see Brooklyn again,” he says.

“It changed,” Steve says.

“We changed,” Bucky points out. 

“I mean, I don’t know that we would fit in now.”

“When have you ever cared about fitting in?” Bucky asks.

Steve smiles at him. “You have a point.”

“I know, now eat,” Bucky says.

“There’s still some of the cupcakes Nat brought,” Steve says when they are finished.

“What else did she bring?” Bucky asks, nodding towards the package wrapped in black tissue paper.

“Let’s find out,” Steve says grabbing it. He tears back the paper and two small tubes fall out into the palm of his hand. “It’s…,” he starts, reading the label. “Oh,” he says, blushing.

“What is it?” Bucky asks.

“Um,” Steve says. “Remember that jar of Vaseline we had in our apartment in the forties?”

Bucky suddenly understands why Steve is blushing. “She gave us… Vaseline?”

“Nope,” Steve replies. “It’s. Uh. More specialized than Vaseline.” He can’t say anything more specific than that, handing the tubes over to Bucky.

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Well.” He clears his throat. “She knows a thing or two about gift giving. And it  _ is _ our wedding night.”

“It is,” Steve says and bites his lip. “So… you wanna?”

“Well that was romantic.”

“You want romance?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Sorry, Daniels confiscated all my candles. And my record player. I think he’s against romance.”

“He does look like he hasn’t been romanced in a while,” Bucky says.

Steve hushes him. “He could hear us,” Steve said.

“What’s he going to do to me? Kill me?”

“That’s not funny,” Steve says.

“Oh, sorry.”

They are silent for a moment.

“Did I kill the mood?”

“A little,” Steve admits.

Bucky nods. Then he lays down on his bunk, flat on his back and looks up at Steve through his eyelashes. “Come here,” he says.

Steve moves over to straddle him, his legs on either side of Bucky’s hips and he hesitates to sit on Bucky for a moment and then gently lets his weight fall onto Bucky. He strokes the flat of one hand up and down Bucky’s sternum.

“This okay?” he asks. “I’m not hurting you?”

“No, you’re not, now get down here,” Bucky orders.

Steve goes smiling, leaning over so he can kiss Bucky’s lips. They make out like teenagers for several minutes, Steve threading his hands into Bucky’s hair and rutting against him. Bucky’s hand slides down Steve’s back till it comes down to cup his ass.

Steve giggles into his mouth when Bucky gives his ass a hearty squeeze. Steve kisses his way across Bucky’s face to his neck and sucks on the skin there, making Bucky gasp and push his hips up. He’s already hard, the curve of his cock sliding against Steve’s ass and his fingers are playing with the waistband of Steve’s pants.

“Take these off,” Bucky orders and Steve leans back to smirk at him.

“You’re eager.”

“I’ve waited seventy years to properly fuck you. Pants off now, Rogers,” Bucky says.

Steve laughs but he stands up and shucks his shirt and stands there for a moment, staring down at Bucky with an eyebrow arched. He sticks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, pulling them down enough to show off the jut of his hipbone and the light dusting of hair under his belly button.

“You’re a tease,” Bucky says.

“I know,” Steve replies. Then he pushes his pants off, leaving his boxers intact.

Bucky groans in mock frustration and flops back against the pillows.

“You’re not enjoying the view?”

“You’re terrible at taking orders.”

“You know, you are not the first person to tell me that.”

“Here,” Bucky says sitting up. “Help me get this off.” He tugs at his shirt with his one arm and Steve reaches over to pull it off for him. It leaves them face-to-face for a moment and Bucky uses that moment to kiss Steve, easily distracting him.

He runs his hand up Steve’s torso, stopping to play with a nipple. Steve groans in response and pushes his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s hand slides along Steve’s chest, then over his back and down, down till he’s shoving Steve’s boxers off.

Steve makes an indignant noise, breaking off the kiss. “Clever,” he says. “Turnabout is fair play.” And then he leans over to pull off both Bucky’s pants and boxers.

Bucky cries out when Steve pulls on the pants that have caught around his ankle and cusses with a burst of pain.

“Shit,” Steve says, dropping the garments and hovering over Bucky. “What did I do?”

Bucky takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose and lets it out of his mouth. His erection wilts against his thigh and he props himself up on his elbow. 

“Fuck, I’m fine,” he says. “I just got jostled. It’s fine, Stevie. I need… I need my painkillers and some water, please,” he asks. He looks up at Steve with his lips twisted in disappointment.

“Of course, anything you need,” Steve says. He kisses Bucky on the forehead before fetching him water and holding out a handful of pills.

Bucky struggles for a moment to sit up – keeping his bad leg straight on the bed – and then carefully swallows every pill with a mouthful of water.

Steve feels cold and ridiculous for a moment, standing there naked in the middle of a jail cell on his goddamn wedding night.

He won’t be surprised if security footage from the cameras finds it’s way onto the internet but he also finds he doesn’t care that much.

“I’m not done with you,” Bucky says, setting the cup down and waving Steve over.

Steve snuggles up to him, curling his body into Bucky’s chest but letting Bucky tilt his chin up to kiss him.

They make out again, this time less frantic, less heated but somehow more intimate. They just give and take for several long moments, Bucky holding Steve in close and Steve winding a hand in Bucky’s long, soft hair.

He finds himself hard and aching again after several moments and he gasps with surprise and pleasure when Bucky curls a hand around his erection.

“Look at you,” Bucky says, pressing his thumb into the sensitive underside of Steve’s dick.

Steve moans and presses his hips forward, seeking out more of Bucky’s attention.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, baby?” Bucky asks, his breath hot right over Steve’s ear. Then he’s kissing down Steve’s neck and biting at his collarbone and all Steve can do is move to straddle Bucky again.

Bucky pushes Steve back till their cocks line up and he can wrap his hand around both of them. Steve braces his hands on Bucky’s shoulder and rocks back and forth gently, their dicks sliding together, slick with precome. It feels amazing.

But Bucky has way more in mind.  He pulls his hand away and still Steve’s hips.

Steve whines with the loss of friction and glances down at Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“Here,” Bucky says, fumbling for one of the tubes Natasha gave them. “Open this.”

Steve hurries to obey, opening the tube and pouring a good amount into Bucky’s hand.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Bucky says and Steve leans forward again to push his thighs apart.

Bucky sinks his hand between their bodies, past Steve’s cock and curls his fingers till he can feel Steve’s entrance. He smirks when Steve makes a shocked but pleased noise when he sinks the tip of one finger in.

Steve kisses his neck and mutters, “Please, Bucky, please,” into Bucky’s ear.

“I forgot how nice this was,” Bucky says.

Steve can’t even think of a reply because now Bucky has two fingers pushed up into him and he’s starting to rock a little against them.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters. “Please.” He pushes his hips back into Bucky’s hand. “I missed you. I missed this. Please, fuck me, Buck.”

“Of course, hush, I will,” Bucky says, twisting to kiss Steve’s face and adding a third finger.

Steve starts to fuck himself onto Bucky’s hand with some urgency, muttering endearments and filthy promises into Bucky’s ear the whole while.

“Are you ready, babydoll?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Steve gasps, thrusting his hips back. “Yes, yes, yes.” He’s dusted pink all over and has his eyes closed, his mouth open, lips bitten plump.

Bucky chuckles, pulling his hand out. “This stuff? So much better than Vaseline.”

Steve blinks his eyes open. “You’re telling me,” he says.

“Come on,” Bucky orders. “Slick me up.”

Steve leans down to kiss him again before opening the lube and this time pouring it directly onto Bucky’s dick.

Bucky moans into the kiss and it’s Steve’s turn to tease him – using both hands to rub the slick up and down Bucky’s shaft, not giving him enough pressure to feel really good and laughing every time Bucky presses his hips up.

They break from the kiss panting and Bucky stares up at Steve’s smirk.

“Yeah, you won’t look so smug in a moment,” Bucky says, grabbing Steve’s hip and pulling him forward.

Steve knee walks up the bed a little and then reaches down, grabbing Bucky’s dick, lining it up with his entrance and sliding down on it in one smooth, slow motion.

It’s Bucky’s turn to moan loud and low, closing his eyes and arching his back.

Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s chest, his fingers cupped gently around the bottom of Bucky’s throat. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “I love you.”

Bucky blinks up at him. “I love you, too. Now, get to work.”

“Killing the mood,” Steve jokes but he presses up and sinks back down onto Bucky’s cock and it feels like sliding home. It feels like they are back in their cold and rickety apartment in ’39 and they’re trying to be quiet because the walls are thin.

Steve brings himself up and down on Bucky’s dick a few times, slow and easy, biting his lip and getting used to it before Bucky smacks him on the thigh and says, “Come on, like you mean it, Rogers.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says and then quickly sets a fast and hard pace, practically bouncing in Bucky’s lap. The cot under them squeaks in protest, punctuated by the sound of skin slapping.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Like that, exactly, Stevie, like that.”

Steve angles himself forward, looking for the right position to hit his prostate. He finds it soon enough and then he’s moaning loud and long while meeting every thrust of Bucky’s hips.

Bucky toys with Steve’s nipples and sucks on his neck, leaving a wake of hickies that won’t last long before he starts to feel his orgasm building down in his gut. He props his feet up flat on the bed to give himself the leverage to thrust harder into Steve and Steve’s mouth drops open with the intensity of the feeling.

Bucky can tell it’ll be all over too soon – he remembers the way Steve looks in bed, the way he groans and begs right before his orgasm. Bucky reaches down and curls his hand over Steve’s cock again and Steve makes a shocked, pleased sound. “ _ Yes _ ,” he breathes right into Bucky’s ear. “Yes, there, Bucky, fuck me, please, don’t stop.”

Bucky pumps Steve’s cock in earnest, trying to keep up with the wild way Steve is moving his hips.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky coaxes him. “Come for me, you can do it, baby.”

“Bucky,” Steve gasps one last time and then comes, his whole back arching beautifully as he pushes his hips completely flush against Bucky. Bucky strokes him through it, careful to wring every last bit of pleasure from Steve’s body.

Steve trembles when he’s done, then he opens his eyes and looks down at Bucky.

“Fuck,” he says.

Bucky smiles. “That good?”

“Mmm,” Steve says, like words are now too hard for him.

“You ain’t done,” Bucky says and smacks his thigh again lightly.

Steve takes a breath, collecting himself, and then goes right back to fucking himself on Bucky’s dick like it’s job. His pecs bounce and his face is flush but now he’s looking down at Bucky, figuring out exactly which way to move his hips to make Bucky moan.

He finds the perfect rhythm and it’s not long until Bucky is gripping onto Steve’s hip for dear life and coming hard inside of him with a grunt.

Steve leans down to kiss his slack mouth, pushing his tongue inside and humming before reaching down and helping Bucky slip out.

“Thanks, doll,” Bucky says. “That was real nice.”

Steve laughs. “Real nice?”

“I dunno what you want me to say. You look amazing when you’re riding cock? Holy fuck, you are still virgin tight after seventy years?”

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Steve asks, but he’s getting up to fetch a towel.

“I know I’m the worst. I’m pretty sure everyone on earth knows it too.”

“Buck,” Steve says sternly.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologizes quickly.

Steve shakes his head and leans over to wipe come off of Bucky’s abs before cleaning off his own cock and ass. He settles heavily on the bed beside Bucky and tugs the blankets up over them.

Bucky pulls Steve in close, letting him pillow his head on Bucky’s chest.

“Was it everything you imagined?” he asks Steve.

“Yeah. It was sex with the love of my life, of course it was amazing.”

“Sap,” Bucky says.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

 

XxX

 

They develop an odd sort of routine, living there in the cell. Once or twice a week, Bucky is allowed outside but only alone. They eat together, watch television, read together and talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes they fuck, sometimes they sleep together, sometimes apart. Steve still needs to help Bucky bathe and dress and Bucky still hurts too much to stand for long. It’s somehow comfortable in spite of the circumstances.

Bucky doesn’t ask Steve what he’ll do… after.

And Steve doesn’t ask Bucky to change his mind.

And it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Until the day another SHIELD medic shows up and takes another vial of Bucky’s blood.

“You think they’ll at least tell us when?” Steve asks when the medic leaves.

Bucky shrugs. “What will you do? After?” he asks.

Steve chews on his bottom lip a moment. “I dunno,” he admits. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Bucky reaches out, takes his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Steve lets Bucky pull him in and they wrap around each other.

 

XxX

 

Steve thought, at first, that not knowing when it would happen was the worst.

He was wrong. Knowing is worse.

Maria is the one to give the news, three months after Bucky’s sentence.

She enters and stands about ten feet back from the outside bars and crosses her hands behind her back. She looks sharp and professional and detached in a way that makes Steve’s stomach sink.

“They set a date,” she says, no preamble. Just like her.

“When?” Bucky asks.

“Next Friday. Midnight. You’ll get a…” Maria falters for a moment. She looks down and then back up, regaining composure. “You’ll get a last meal and the option to meet with a religious leader, if you would like. You don’t have to decide right now.”

Bucky nods.

Maria stands there a moment longer and then leaves without another word.

Steve has to sit down. His mouth is completely dry and his fingertips are numb.

“So that’s it then,” Bucky says. “Ten days.”

Steve leans over, puts his on the back of his head. “I can’t do this,” he says.

Bucky reaches out and rubs his hand down Steve’s spine, hushing him a little. “You’re strong, Stevie. Stronger than I ever was. You’ll be okay,” he says.

Steve shakes his head and sits up, tears misting in his eyes. “I’m not, Buck. I’ve lost you once, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Steve, we’ve been through this.”

“I know,” Steve says. “I know.”

He sits quietly for the rest of the night.

 

XxX

 

Steve wakes Bucky up by kissing him filthily the next morning. He fucks Bucky quietly, slowly, holding him as close as he can.

They pass the whole day like that – screwing like teenagers who have nowhere to be. Not thinking about – and not discussing – what comes next.

That night, Steve sleeps heavily – exhausted from the day, but wakes in the middle of the night to Bucky shaking him.

“Steve,” Bucky says, his voice cracking slightly.

Steve is practically completely beneath Bucky and he’s so tired and comfortable that he just wants to pull Bucky back against his chest and go right back to sleep but Bucky won’t let him. Which is when he realizes that they are soaked.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says when Steve helps him sit up. Bucky is shivering and clearly in pain.

Steve rubs the sleep from his eyes and gets up to start the shower and grab Bucky’s pills. “It’s fine,” he says once he is awake enough to speak.

He hands Bucky a handful of painkillers and watches Bucky swallow them dutifully. “Well, at least there is one thing you won’t miss about me,” Bucky says.

Steve stands there for a moment, shocked, like he can’t quite process what Bucky said.

“Buck,” he finally says. “That’s… I would. I love you, you asshole,” he finally settles on. “I would do anything for you. And this—it’s just  _ inconvenient _ but I don’t even think about it unless you’re saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’m going to wake up and wonder what I did wrong every day for the rest of my life. I would rather have you and have this than that. I would rather stay here in this goddamn cage and look after you till my back is bent with old age than let them--,” Steve has to stop talking.  He swallows hard and, when he speaks again, his voice is much quieter. “You made your choice. I respect it. But don’t joke about it.”

Bucky nods, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

 

XxX

 

On the seventh day, Steve asks Bucky where he wants to be buried.

The TV is quietly playing some random show in the background. Bucky is lying on his back on his bunk, staring straight up while Steve sketches him in charcoal (they won’t let him have pens or pencils.)

“I guess I haven’t thought about it,” Bucky says. He looks over at Steve. “My parents are buried somewhere in Brooklyn. Your parents, too, aren’t they? I guess with one of them.”

“Your parents?”

“Or yours,” Bucky says.

“Mine?”

“Well, you are my husband. Doesn’t that make them family too?”

It’s a morbid topic but Steve finds himself wanting to smile anyway. His Ma always adored Bucky. He’s not sure how she would like Bucky being her son-in-law but Steve likes it.

“I mean, my parents had Rebecca too, and she’s buried there with them. But your parents only had you. I want to be buried where you want to be buried.”

“Where I want to be buried?”

“You might be Captain America but you’re not immortal, Stevie. Where will you be buried?”

Steve smirks at him. “You sure I won’t get remarried? And want to be buried with my second husband?”

“You better not,” Bucky warns. “I’ll haunt your ass.”

“Please do.”

 

XxX

 

“How’s the pizza this decade?” Bucky asks the following day.

“What?”

“I remember, when we were teenagers, if we had a few extra cents we would go get pizza or hotdogs, when we made it over to Coney Island. We used to sit out in the sun and eat pizza or hotdogs. Tell me I didn’t imagine that.”

“You didn’t imagine that. Nathan’s hotdogs is still there, and there is lots of good pizza around. You haven’t had pizza since you’ve been out of the ice?”

Bucky shrugs. “HYDRA didn’t really like to feed me and after I got free, I was too focused on not getting caught than what I was eating. But, yeah, I think. That sounds good. Pizza and hotdogs.”

“Very American,” Steve says. “You just need some apple pie too.”

Bucky makes a startled but delighted noise. “Apple pie! How could I forget? My mom used to make it for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten too.”

“Well, it’s been a few years,” Bucky jokes.

 

XxX

 

Bucky doesn’t want to talk to a priest.

He wants to talk to Sam Wilson, alone.

Steve is sent back to the SHIELD cafeteria to drink coffee and sit in the sun while Sam talks to Bucky.

“If you wanna plan your escape now, you might want Steve to be in on it,” Sam says when he comes into the room. There is a chair outside the cell for him but he doesn’t take it.

“You know we are being listened to,” Bucky says.

“I know,” Sam says. “Figured I would just say what they are expecting.”

“I’m not escaping,” Bucky says.

“I assumed. Steve has said, well, not a lot, granted, but enough.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Are you going to give me the ‘take care of Steve’ talk?” Sam asks.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not even a little. That asshole needs someone to look after him.”

Bucky smirks. “Is it a challenge you want?”

“You know what? He might not be Cap anymore but he’s still Cap to me. And if Captain America needs something, of course I’ll give it to him.”

“What if Steve Rogers needs something?”

Sam’s face softens a little. “Well, Steve Rogers can call me anytime, day or night.”

“Listen to me,” Bucky says. “He’ll say he’s fine. He’s full of shit. You gotta watch him so he doesn’t sneak off and do something dumb. He’s a slippery little bastard too so keep a good eye on him.”

“Who do you think was looking after his dumb ass before you came back from the dead? I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says.

“You know, I still kind of hate you,” Sam says but there’s no heat in it.

Bucky smirks. “I would expect nothing less.”

“Good. That boy loves you more than anything.”

“I know. But he’s tough. He’ll be okay.”

“Let’s hope so.”

 

XxX

 

“I can’t stop thinking about all these times that things were almost different,” Bucky says.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks. Bucky is lying on top of him.

It’s 15 hours until they’ll come for him. Steve can’t keep his hands off Bucky.

“The farm girl,” Bucky says. “If I had made a move a few seconds earlier, maybe she wouldn’t have died.

“The train, if I had reached a little further, I wouldn’t have fallen.

“That day on the bridge. Natasha clipped my mask. A little closer, she would’ve killed me.

“Serbia. If I’d looked over my shoulder, I wouldn’t have been shot in the back.

“All those moments. Everything could be different.”

Steve strokes a hand down Bucky’s back, cradles him close. He likes the way Bucky feels warm and sturdy in his arms, something real, something concrete. So unlike the way he used to dream about Bucky after he woke from the ice.

“You can’t what-if everything, Buck. It’s not healthy. We did the things that we thought were best in the moment. That’s all we have.”

“You saying there is nothing you would’ve done different?”

“No,” Steve says. “I should’ve come after you, after DC.”

“I should’ve stayed,” Bucky says.

“I don’t hold it against you,” Steve says.

“And I don’t hold it against you,” Bucky replies, shifting so he can kiss Steve.

 

XxX

 

It’s difficult to decide what to do on your last day alive.

Mostly, they don’t want to stop touching.

Bucky takes enough painkillers to enable himself to move with ease and peels Steve out of his clothes. He spends a good twenty minutes crouched between Steve’s legs, turning him into a whimpering mess with his mouth before making love to him like it’s the sole thing his body was built for.

He wants to remember it all – the way Steve moves under him, gasping and grabbing at him, his plush lips and flushed skin. The way he pulls Bucky into him again and again. The soft sounds he makes.

After, he lays boneless and naked on Steve’s chest and doesn’t want to move. He just wants to listen to Steve’s heartbeat and act like that’s the moment he’ll live in forever – the one where he and Steve are alone and sated and have nowhere to be and no one counting on them for anything.

It doesn’t last.

Of course it doesn’t.

They get up in the late afternoon and shower and Steve helps Bucky dress in the sterile, white clothing for the final time. He shaves Bucky’s face and brushes his hair and ties it back for him.

Maria brings them dinner.

“I wasn’t going to trust the cafeteria with an order this important,” she admits.

She’s brought them pizza from some real Italian place, piles of French fries and Nathan’s Hotdogs, Coca-Cola, and apple pie from some bakery in town. 

They sit on the floor to eat like they’re kids at Coney Island hanging their legs off the dock again. It’s somehow… nice. Which Steve hadn’t expected. Bumping shoulders and smiling at each other and occasionally kissing like lovesick fools.

After they are done eating, Steve sits on his bed and Bucky curls up in his lap. Steve rocks him a little, pets his hair, kisses him. The anxiety is high and tight but there’s nothing to be done for it.

“I want…,” Bucky starts and cuts himself off.

“What do you want?”

Bucky knots his hand in Steve’s shirt. There’s something oddly childish and delicate about it.

“I want you to tell me it’s okay, even if it’s not. I want you to tell me that I did my best, even though I didn’t. I want you to tell me that it’s over and I did my best.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve says, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck where the smell of him is strongest – masculine and sweet at the same time. He wants to die there like that. “You were a victim,” he says. “You did  _ everything _ right. You don’t have to worry anymore.” Steve squeezes him a little. “You can let go, it’ll be fine. You did so good and you don’t have to hold on anymore. No one will order you around, ever again. You did your best and it’s all over now.”

Bucky closes his eyes and slumps against Steve’s collarbone.

Steve kisses him on the lips, gently at first and then frantic. “I’m proud of you,” he says when they break. Bucky curls his hand over Steve’s back and holds on.

“I’m so proud of you,” Steve repeats.

 

XxX

 

Daniels, Maria and a dozen guards show up at 11:30.

Steve instinctively pulls Bucky closer to his body, his throat going painful and his chest tight. He can’t--

They can’t really expect him to—

“It’s time,” Daniels says.

“Hey,” Bucky says, looking up at Steve, putting his one hand on Steve’s cheek. It’s his turn to be reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Steve shakes his head but doesn’t say anything.

“I love you,” Bucky says.

Steve leans down and kisses Bucky, hard and deep. He pulls away from the kiss but keeps their foreheads together. “You’re it for me, jerk.”

“You were it for me, too, punk,” Bucky says. “But this, here, is the end of the line. You fulfilled your promise. I gotta go now.”

Steve crushes Bucky to him one last time. “I’ll wait for you,” Steve says.

Bucky laughs a little, dry and humorless. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You know me,” Steve says.

Daniels clears his throat.

Bucky pulls away. “You’ll be okay, Stevie. I know you will.” He kisses Steve one last time and then stands up.

Steve feels instantly cold without Bucky’s body against his. He watches Bucky go to the inner door. He hears it unlock. Bucky steps out into the space between the inner and outer cages. The inner door locks. The outer door unlocks. Bucky steps out of the cage altogether and he is immediately shackled and surrounded by SHIELD guards.

Steve’s chest constricts painfully and he swallows a sudden urge to sob loudly.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve one last time before being led out of the chamber.

Maria stays behind.

“Legally,” she says. “Family of the inmate are allowed to watch the execution. You are Barnes’s only family. Do you want to watch or do you want me to keep you here till it’s over? You’re a free man, Steve. We can release you if you prefer.”

Steve presses his hands to his eyes and forces back the well of tears. “One moment,” he says.

Maria is silent.

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath and brings his hands down from his face. “I want to watch.”

Maria nods.

 

XxX

 

SHIELD does not have an execution chamber on sight.

Steve is both surprised and relieved to learn this.

Instead, they have taken Bucky to SHEILD’s onsite medical wing, to the surgery suite. The wing has been cleared of all personnel except the many SHIELD guards that have been brought in for this occasion and the staff performing the execution.

The surgery suite has a viewing window – like the one Steve and Natasha watched Fury through when he faked his death. There are witnesses that legally have to be there, a few members of the press and Steve.

They have been ordered by Daniels to be completely silent.

Bucky is brought in on a gurney. He is completely strapped down, looking so thin and vulnerable. Steve aches. He wants to hold his hand. He wants to pet his hair and kiss him and tell him that everything will be all right. He wants to tell him that everything is fine now, that all Bucky has to do now is rest.

Bucky doesn’t look toward the glass, toward him or the witnesses. He stares up at the ceiling with his face impassive.

They ask him if he has any last words and he says, “No.”

Then they insert an IV into his arm and Steve watches as three separate people administer three separate injections into the IV.

He watches as Bucky closes his eyes.

He watches as Bucky’s chest stops rising and falling.

He watches as the monitor on the wall shows Bucky’s heart failing.

They sit there, thirty, forty minutes, till they are sure, really sure, that the Winter Soldier is dead.

A corner pronounces James Buchanan Barnes deceased at 12:53 A.M.

They close the curtain to the window and that’s that.

Steve sits there, numb and full of a distant, hard-to-explain disbelief while everyone else files out of the room. 

 

XxX

 

Maria finds him there about half an hour later.

“You can see him, if you want,” she says quietly. She sounds very tired.

Steve looks up at her from where he’s been sitting, motionless, for the past hour or so. He blinks. Everything feels distant and unreal, like he’s watching life happen from the bottom of a well.

He nods. “Yeah, I wanna see him,” he says.

“Steve,” Maria says. “I’m sorry.”

Steve stands up, his knees creaking as he goes. “I know,” he says.

“I tried everything to prevent this,” Maria says.

Steve’s not sure that’s true but he just says, “I know. Take me to him?”

 

XxX

 

He’s not sure what’s better.

Getting to see the love of your life after they’ve died or not.

He’s now experienced both.

Bucky does look oddly peaceful. They put him in a room at the end of the hall, removed all the straps from his body and pulled a blanket up to his chest like he was cold or something.

He’ll never be cold again, Steve thinks distantly with some sort of dry humor.

His hair has come loose from the hairband Steve put it in it earlier. His face is smooth and he looks young. So fucking young that Steve can’t help thinking about the boys who died in the War, when he’d see them and be sick by how much of life they would never see.

He’s sick again.

Bucky’s still got his wedding ring on. His hand is lying on top of the blanket; his fingers look so cold and thin. Steve wants to warm him up by holding him close, like Bucky used to do all those years ago when Steve was just skin and bird bones.

He can’t make himself step into the room for a long moment. It’s an illusion. If he stays here in the doorway looking at Bucky, it’s like he’s watching Bucky sleep and any minute, Bucky will wake up and they will make breakfast together and everything will be  _ fine. _

But if he goes in, if he touches Bucky, it’ll be real.

Bucky will be dead and gone and there isn’t a damn thing Steve can do about it and he’s already--

He’s already done this once.

He’s already lost Bucky once. Mourned him once and how can—

How can he do it again?

How can he lose the love of his life  _ twice? _

The human heart can only hold so much grief. And his cup has run over with muck more times than he can count.

But the longer he stands there, the less he can stand it.

Bucky just seems so helpless, so delicate.

Steve finds his feet moving almost without his permission. Crossing the room.

He stands over Bucky for a moment and then reaches down to brush his hair back, work out a tangle with his fingertips. It’s so soft and lovely. Steve would’ve never thought he would like Bucky with long hair but, he does. Something about it represents all the changes Bucky has been through but he’s still Bucky.

Or, he was.

Steve touches his shoulder and that’s when it becomes real. He feels like dead weight. He’s cold to the touch and heavy. Slack.

Steve cracks, reaching down to pick up Bucky’s hand. His fingers feel for a pulse that isn’t there and he kisses the back of his hand, his palm, the wedding band.

He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help himself. He crawls up on the bed and lays his head on Bucky’s chest.

He wants to hold onto him for as long as he can. Until they make him leave. Until they pry him from Bucky’s cold hands.


	4. Chapter 4

“Anytime someone died, my mom would bring them a casserole. I didn’t understand it till I was a teenager and my uncle died and I had to watch my favorite aunt cry and I realized, well, when shit hits the fan, you want to do something for people. But you don’t always know what you can do. So you feed them instead. Everyone needs to eat. Even supersoldiers,” Sam says.

And he has made a casserole – chicken and broccoli and mushrooms. It doesn’t look bad but Steve can’t imagine eating anything right now.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sam suggests after a moment of silence.

“Not really,” Steve admits.

“Okay.”

There is a beat of silence.

“You wanna get drunk?” he asks.

“Can’t.”

“You ever try Everclear?” Sam asks. “It’s 95% alcohol. Maybe seven shots in a row.”

Steve gives a tiny smile at that. “Maybe.”

“I promised him I’d look after you, you know?” Sam says.

Steve looks at him for the first time. “You did? That’s what Bucky wanted to talk to you about?”

Sam nods. “He didn’t have to, I would’ve done it anyway.”

“Thanks, Sam, you’re a good friend.”

“I don’t need you to tell me. When Barnes asked to speak with me, I was kinda hoping he was gonna ask me to get Natasha to spring him.”

“I don’t know that he would’ve sought out death on his own but Bucky was ready,” Steve says. “He wanted it all to be over.”

“You didn’t try to change his mind?”

“A little bit. I mean, what the fuck am I going to do without him? But I remember, after Bucky died. I mean, after he fell from the train, Peggy found me in a bar trying to get drunk. And she told me to ‘give Barnes the dignity of his choice.’ Bucky made a decision to follow me back into war and he knew he could get killed and did it anyway. I had to learn to respect that even though it hurt. And it hurt so bad. I couldn’t imagine going on without him.”

“You didn’t really, did you?” Sam asks. “You dropped a plane into the Atlantic a few weeks later.”

“I did do that. I’m not sure that was because of Bucky,” he says. “I’m not sure it wasn’t.”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid this time are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“At least that’s an honest answer.”

 

XxX

 

Steve hides in Sam’s house for two days, avoiding the news and the internet and his cellphone and letting Sam feed him.

Then he has to plan the funeral.

“It’s stupid,” Steve says when Sam puts him in his car to drive him to the funeral home.

“What is?” Sam asks, checking his rearview mirror as he backs out of his driveway.

“Outside of me, Bucky didn’t really know  _ anyone _ . I mean, you and him talked a few times and Clint and Natasha but—no one’s mourning him. I’m not sure a funeral is a good idea,” Steve says.

“Look, Steve, a funeral isn’t for the dead. It’s for the living. The State and the world in general has gotten to control the narrative of Bucky’s life the past few years. His funeral will be about him, the real him, and you’ll get to control the narrative. It’s your chance to get some closure and say the things you wish people knew about Bucky.”

 

XxX

 

He arranges for the funeral to be held in an old church in Brooklyn. It wa a church neither him nor Bucky ever attended, but it was around in the 1930’s when they were young and in love and that’s why Steve picked it.

The funeral director is a kind, old man who is careful not to linger on the reasons why Bucky is dead while still respecting him. He says they can arrange to have Bucky buried in a replica of his army uniform from the war. He says a lot of family of vets like to see their loved ones put to rest with all that glory.

Steve thinks about it a moment. Thinks about Bucky in his dress uniform the night they went dancing before he shipped off. He thinks about Bucky sitting at their kitchen table with his draft letter in hand and how Steve had known that Bucky was frightened but wasn’t letting it show. He thinks about how the army treated them and he thinks about Bucky sitting in his dress uniform at that bar in London when Steve asked him to rejoin the fight and he thinks about how he never really had a say in it.

He doesn’t want Bucky buried in the uniform. It’s not the way he thinks about Bucky, it’s not the way the he wants the world to think about Bucky and it’s not the way he wants Bucky to rest.

They pick, instead, a simple black suit.

Steve gets to see him first, in a sleek black coffin with a white lining and he looks so...

There are no words.

They’ve brushed his hair and pulled it back into a neat ponytail. The suit fits him like a glove and his single hand is folded over his stomach. The wedding ring is still there, gleaming in the light like a promise Steve can’t forget.

“Buck,” Steve says, his voice is thick.

He half expects Bucky to move, wake up. He has no idea.

But nothing happens. He’s simply standing in the heavy silence of the viewing room in the funeral home.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” he says. “They’re expecting me to just walk this off. But you know, better than most, that there are some injuries you can’t walk off.”

Steve looks over his shoulder to see if anyone else has come into the room but, no, he’s still alone.

He leans over the casket, putting a hand on top of Bucky’s cold one and whispering to him.

“Don’t be too mad if I do something stupid, okay?”

 

XxX

 

More people show up to the funeral than Steve had expected.

Sam, of course. He brings along several of the vets from his group and his sister. Natasha and Clint, naturally. Sharon flies in from Germany, looking solemn in a simple, black dress.

Sam introduces Steve to a handful of WWII vets who had written to him and asked to attend Barnes’s funeral in support, even though none of them had known him or Steve personally. They’ve come from all across America and Steve is so touched he can’t speak for a moment.

And then there are family members related to the Howlies – Dum Dum’s granddaughter, Mortia’s son, what seems to be Gabe’s entire extended family, a grandson of Dernier and his wife along with Mortia’s widow. They mutter condolences and outrage at the things that happened to Bucky and Steve feels himself unable to respond, shaking hands with them with a lump lodged in his throat and his eyes misty.

When Steve takes the podium to give the eulogy, he is still not entirely sure what he is going to say.

He just starts talking.

“It’s hard to sum up a life,” he says. “It’s a great injustice that none of you will actually get to know Bucky Barnes.”

Steve is quiet for second, staring down at the podium, his hands clenching the edges.

“The truth be told, he was the love of my life,” Steve says. “And I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting him from this, from HYDRA, from the world. Bucky always looked out for me. Always had my back. I feel like the few times he needed me to protect him, I couldn’t.

“He lived through things I can’t even imagine and I try not to imagine. All that pain, all that suffering. And now this.”

Steve looks up then. “I’m not here to talk about how Bucky died. I’m here to talk about how he lived. How he was gentle, and kind, and always stood up for what was right.”

 

XxX

 

He does bury Bucky next to his own Ma and father, like they had discussed.

He picked out a headstone wide enough for two names and avoids the way Sam looks at him when he sees it. Bucky’s name is on the left side (Bucky always liked to sleep on the left side of the bed) under a star in a circle a little like the shield (the image had made Steve feel like maybe he was still protecting Bucky in death).

The pastor reads a few verses at the gravesite. Timothy 4:6-8, ( _ …the time of my departure has come, I have fought the good fight…),  _ Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 ( _ …a time to die… a time to kill and a time to heal…),  _ 1 Corinthians 15:51-53 ( _ …we shall all be changed…) _ .

Steve is not sure he believes in God anymore. Not sure Bucky did either. But, still, there is something comforting in the words. Something that reminds him of his youth, of being back in Brooklyn and the smell of the old bibles in the pew racks and polishing his best pair of shoes. Meeting with Bucky on Sunday afternoons and running around till sunset when their Ma’s called them home.

He  _ aches _ with the memory and the loss, feeling unsteady on his feet.

He damn near jumps out of his skin when Sam claps a hand on his shoulder, thumb brushing across the back of his neck and grounding him in place.

He gives Sam a quiet, grateful look. Sam nods and they both go back to looking at Bucky’s casket in the grave and listening to the pastor.

Steve is motioned over to be the first to drop a rose onto the casket and throw a handful of dirt.

He watches it scatter across the gleaming surface of the box and thinks that it should feel more  _ final _ , more  _ over _ .

Bucky is dead and gone for real this time.

Like he wanted.

Steve has touched his corpse and kissed his limp hands and watched them lower him into a grave and it’s over it’s over it’s over...

But it doesn’t feel real.

Nothing feels real.

Bucky died and came back and is dead again and—

Sam guides him out to a car, his body moving on autopilot, letting himself be led like a child.

 

XxX

 

He ends up at a wake at Gabe’s granddaughter’s house. A wake he didn’t plan and didn’t know anyone was planning, but, apparently Sam had.  It’s in her house in Brooklyn.

Steve had no idea Gabe had family in Brooklyn and feels instantly terrible that he never did try to connect with the Howlie’s families beforehand. But, then again, what would he have said?

_ I served with your grandfathers in WWII and now I am back from the dead and have no one and nothing and surely you could take some pity on me for old time’s sake? _

Steve sits in a corner and listens to people talk. Family of the various Howlies are swapping stories they heard about the war with each other, occasionally one of the WWII vets pipes up and adds something. Natasha is making the rounds to some of the vets Sam brought along.

And, as far as wakes go, it’s nice. All these people are here because they believed in Bucky, that what HYDRA did to him wasn’t his fault and no one is upset that he was gay (or that he made Captain America gay) and Steve is content to sit in silence and listen to the conversations. He doesn’t have the energy or the desire to participate. He’s missing Bucky like a limb but he feels, for the first time since he became aware of the Winter Soldier’s existence, like the entire world doesn’t hate Bucky.

And he would’ve liked to leave it at that. But, of course, that is the moment Tony Fucking Stark makes an appearance.

The room falls silent when he comes in, dressed to the nines like usual and Steve’s stomach cramps and he has to hold onto the armrests of the chair he’s in to stop himself from launching his whole body right at Stark.

“Hi,” Tony says, severely less smooth than he usually is. “I figured I wasn’t welcome at the service but I wanted to pay my respects.”

“Respects?” Steve asks. “You want to pay your respects after doing everything in your power to make sure Bucky got put down like a rabid dog?”

Tony skates past all that and says, “I need to talk to you.” His voice is very serious and he looks like he won’t back down.

“Was Bucky’s funeral really the best time for this?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know that there will be a best time,” Tony admits. “But I figured Steve wouldn’t murder me with all these witnesses.” He tries for humor and fails.

“Fine.” Steve rockets himself up out of the chair. “Let’s talk.”

“In private,” Tony clarifies.

“Fine,” Steve agrees and walks straight through the house and out the backdoor to the tiny backyard.

Tony follows, all eyes on him as he steps out into the bright sunlight.

Steve stands for a moment staring at the back fence, composing himself before turning around and looking at Tony.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Steve says.

Tony looks slightly less composed now. “I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“Hear what?” Steve asks.

“Swiss officials just arrested Hemlut Zemo for the bombing of the U.N. building last year. It’ll hit the news within the hour, that’s the only reason I’m here.”

“Hemlut Zemo?” Steve asks in disbelief. “Hemlut Zemo,” he repeats. “The expert the prosecution used to discredit everything Bucky said about his time with HYDRA while he was on trial for treason?”

“Yes, that Hemlut Zemo,” Tony says. “A few investigative journalists who believed you and Bucky all along got suspicious about Zemo’s mid-trial discovery of the other Soldiers and started doing some digging.

“He’s in custody now, in Germany. I was just briefed that he confessed to the bombing and that he did it to tear up the Avengers.

“He blames us for what happened in Sokovia. I kind of blame us, too.”

“I guess we agree on something then,” Steve says. “This is all coming out suspiciously late though, isn’t it?”

“I have no control on how fast discoveries like this are made, Steve,” Tony says.

“But you got what you wanted. Bucky is dead.”

“You got what you wanted – the Accords were never signed.”

“I don’t give a damn about the Accords, Tony. Do you have something more to say or are you done? You might not know but I buried my husband today.”

“I know,” Tony says very calmly. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what you meant to happen,” Steve says and goes to brush past him.

“He killed my mother,” Tony says.

Steve freezes with his foot on the bottom step leading up to the backdoor.

“Did you know that?” Tony asks. “They found a tape in Siberia. The Winter Soldier killed my parents for the serum they gave to the rest of them.”

Steve turns around slowly. “You know what HYDRA did to him. You know how HYDRA treated him and I’m not going to stand here and let you blame him for what happened while HYDRA had him.”

“I’m not here to blame anything on Barnes,” Tony says. “I saw the equipment they used on him. I don’t blame Barnes. But I was mad and I acted rashly and I believed in the Accords, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want any more innocent people to die because we were trying to do what we thought was right. I thought the Accords would help prevent civilian loss.”

“Innocent people are always going to die, Tony. It’s the nature of war. We already do our best to prevent that from happening, we don’t need the UN or the Accords to tell us not to harm innocents.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Tony asks. “We would’ve helped get Barnes out. It didn’t have to end like this.”

Steve smiles then. It’s not a real smile, not a happy one. He claps Tony on the shoulder. “Bucky wanted this. He was done. He made a decision and I had to respect it.”

“Barnes wanted to die?”

“He had a spinal injury and seventy years of blood on his hands. I don’t like it but I understand it,” Steve says. “I’m going back inside. You should get back to your work,” Steve says and leaves before Tony can say anything more.

 

XxX

 

Tony was right.

The of news of Zemo hits the new stations within the hour and there is a palpable outrage. Newscasters who cheerfully called Bucky a traitor and a monster just a few months ago were now eating their words, issuing apologies and remarking on how terrible it was that Barnes had been wrongfully executed.

Sam turns the TV off and tells Steve to go to bed.

Steve goes back to his room in the hotel suite they are sharing and waits till he hears Sam go to bed before climbing out the window like a teenager.

He wanders the streets till he finds his way back to the graveyard.

It’s dark but he doesn’t care.

He goes to his father’s grave first. It’s 100 years old now.

He’s barely thirty and his father has been dead for a century. He never knew the man, but felt like he did from the way his Ma would talk about him. He wonders, briefly, if he would be proud of Steve.

Then he goes to his mother’s grave. He says, “Hey Ma,” real quietly and touches the stone. “I wish you were here. I could use some of your advice. Or maybe just one of your hugs,” he admits.

The silence is heavy and he stands there for a long time looking at her headstone and just thinking.

“I hope you don’t mind, I married Bucky,” he tells her. “I know you always liked him. He always took care of me.

“I tried to take care of him, too,” Steve says. “But I think I failed. He was always there for me, anytime I needed him, and the few times he needed someone to lean on, I wasn’t enough. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ma. They made me into this—this hero – because I was good. At least, that’s what they told me.” Steve sighs, feeling the tears he’s held back all day starting to build.

“He’s dead,” Steve says. “Bucky’s dead. I couldn’t save him. I’m not enough. I can’t do this, anymore. I’m so tired,” he says.

There’s no response – just the silence of the graveyard and the background noise of the city.

Steve takes a breath and tips his head back to look at the night sky, letting a few frustrated tears slip down his face before composing himself.

Then he steps to the side, onto the fresh earth of Bucky’s grave. He moves over to the right of it – unable to stand directly on the grave itself for fear of hurting Bucky in some way.

“Hey Buck,” he says. “I miss you. I know, it’s been what? Six days since I last saw you? I was always a mess without you. When you went to basic, I couldn’t sleep. I would lie on your side of the bed and sleep in one of your old shirts. I know, you would’ve teased me forever if you saw me like that but. I missed you.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

 

XxX

 

Sam is barely holding in his frustration and Steve couldn’t give a fuck.

“I wake up to go for a run – like normal – and I check the news and what’s the headline? It’s not the fact that Zemo is an asshole or some politician did something stupid. No, it’s some asshole paparazzi found Captain America  _ asleep _ on his husband’s grave. Like some gothic novel shit.”

“I’m not Captain America anymore,” Steve responds. He’s still got a smudge of dirt on his face and his hair is a mess. He’s got terrible stubble and, generally, looks disheveled.

“I know,” Sam says taking a breath. “I know this is hard. And I know you miss him. But, like you said, Bucky made his choice. And I don’t think Bucky would like to know you were sleeping outside in a graveyard all night.”

Steve shrugs. “You might be surprised to learn that I often did things Bucky didn’t like.”

“Come on, man, you know what I meant.”

“It’s fine. It won’t happen again,” Steve says. “I’m going to go back to my apartment in DC and. And I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“No,” Sam says. “You should come stay with me.”

“Sam, I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“No one is saying you can’t, but, you’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to lean on people, you know, Steve? Come stay with me for a little while.”

“Sam, I’m not saying you can’t help me. I’m saying I want to go back to my apartment and sleep in my bed and just take stock of my life and where I go from here.”

Sam is quiet for a moment, looking at him like he doesn’t quite believe him before nodding. “Fine, fine. Go back to your place, take stock, find peace, whatever. But I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I would expect nothing different.”

 

XxX

 

Steve unplugs his cable box.

He would disconnect his phone too but he doesn’t trust Sam not to freak out at being unable to call and text him regularly.

The pictures of him sleeping on Bucky’s grave have thoroughly made the rounds on the internet and Steve can’t listen to one more statement – positive or negative – about the moment.

He turns off all the lights and sits on the floor with an old record on.

He thinks about three years ago, how Bucky came to kill Fury in this very apartment.

He should’ve jumped off the roof and gone after him then.

He pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them before burying his face against his knees and crying.

 

XxX

 

He has 27 missed calls.

Sam. Natasha. Clint. Sharon. Even Wanda.

Vision?

He turns his phone off.

He plugs his cable box back in and turns on the news.

They are talking about Zemo. About the other Winter Soldiers. About the Sokovian Accords.

Apparently some people have gone back to believing Bucky is the worst person ever.

Some of them are glad Steve stepped down.

Others believe Bucky’s innocence and don’t blame Steve for stepping down.

But it doesn’t really matter. In the end, Zemo succeeded. He destroyed the Avengers. They weren’t so strong after all.

He turns it off again.

Someone knocks on his door and he briefly considers hiding but assumes that it is Sam.

He opens the door without even thinking, launching into an apology for not answering his phone before going silent when he realizes it is not Sam.

Instead, it is the King of Wakanda, T’Challa himself.

Steve stares at him for a moment in disbelief before the man says, “Hello Captain Rogers.”

“Your highness,” Steve says and then steps back to let T’Challa in.

T’Challa walks slow and easily into Steve’s apartment, everything about him seeming slightly kingly in a way. It’s so different from the movements of the Black Panther who chased him and Bucky across rooftops in Romania, Steve can hardly believe they are one and the same.

“I’ve come to apologize,” T’Challa says when Steve closes the door. “I’ve had time to review the information uncovered after the arrest of Zemo, in addition to the files released by Black Widow after the events in DC in 2014.

“I realized I made a mistake in blaming Sergeant Barnes for my father’s death. I was overcome with grief and would not listen to anything other than what I wanted to believe.”

“It’s easy to make rash decisions when you’re bereaved,” Steve says. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation.

“It was a mistake I will try not to make again. I am a leader, I am not supposed to let my judgment get clouded by feelings like that.”

“You might be a leader but you’re still human.”

“I know there is nothing that anyone can do you for you in this time, Captain,” T’Challa says. “But I want you to know that you are always welcome in Wakanda and if you do need anything, I am always willing to help you.”

Steve thanks him and shows him out.

 

XxX

 

He thinks about the farm girl.

The one Bucky kept bringing up.

About how Bucky said Steve was the farm girl.

But—

On the news they are talking about Zemo’s plot, about how he tore up the Avengers by hurting Cap.

There are always innocents who get killed to hurt the powerful.

This time, the innocent one was Barnes.

And Steve is fairly certain he is the only one who realizes.

 

XxX

 

He is simultaneously surprised and not surprised when the Winter Soldiers break Zemo out of holding in Germany the next day.

He wakes up to a call from Tony.

“Hey Cap,” Tony says, painfully cheery for four in the morning. “We’re having a bit of a problem and was wondering if you want to grab your shield and help us out?”

“You might have forgotten, I don’t have a shield anymore,” Steve says and hangs up.

Tony calls back half a dozen times before giving up.

Steve turns on the news and watches the coverage.

The Soldiers, apparently, took Zemo to some previously unknown, disused HYDRA base.

It takes the Avengers twelve hours to track him and subdue him.

By the time the whole mess is over, three of the five Soldiers are dead, Zemo and the other two are back in custody and it looks like the UN and/or the Avengers might have an international standoff of some sort with Russia.

Steve shuts the TV off and crawls back into bed.

He lays in the dark unable to sleep and wishing he had something of Bucky’s. A dogtag or an old shirt or just.

Just fucking anything.

There’s nothing. Anything Steve or Bucky owned back during the 40’s is long gone – sold by his old landlord and ended up in museums or god knows where.

The more recent incarnation of Bucky had no belongings.

Well.

Steve sits up in the dark.

There were the clothes he was wearing when they were captured by SHIELD.

 

XxX

 

“We are having an international crisis and you are in here asking about Barnes’s clothes?” Fury asks, incredulously.

“I’m Bucky’s next of kin. I should’ve been given all of his belongings after his execution anyway.”

“Did he have something particularly important on him?” Fury asks. The phone on his desk buzzes and he glares at it.

“Why does it matter if it was important?” Steve asks. “It belonged by Bucky and now I want it.”

Fury holds his hand up and answers the call, saying a few grunts and then hanging up and getting to his feet.

“I’m not dealing with your feelings right now, Rogers,” he says. “Russia wants us to hand over the Avengers for crossing into their airspace, Zemo is apparently some kind of mastermind who wants to destroy the world and we now have multiple Winter Soldiers we have to deal with. So, please, you are welcome go yell at Daniels over this mess but I don’t give a damn if you get Barnes’s things returned to you or not,” Fury says. “You are here asking for a favor you don’t really deserve. You knew we were going into a messy situation but sat this one out? That’s unlike you, Cap.”

“You made me  _ resign _ ,” Steve reminds him, sharply. 

Fury opens his door, a clear invitation for Steve to leave. “That I did. Because it was a clear conflict of interests for Captain America to be the lover of a man on trial for treason. But that’s not the case anymore. You want your shield back? All you have to do is go to the locker room and suit up.”

Steve glares at him in disbelief for a moment before walking out of the room without a word.

“It’ll be waiting,” Fury calls after him.

Steve has to go down to the main level and down the hall to reach the elevator to the lower levels.

He comes around the corner just in time to see Tony making his way toward the briefing room.

Tony freezes and takes in Steve.

“Cap, you’re a little late to the party,” he says.

“I’m not fighting anymore,” Steve says, brushing past Tony.

“Oh, I kind of noticed that,” Tony replies as Steve slips down the hall.

 

XxX

 

He doesn’t open the package till he gets home.

It’s a relatively light paper bag that Daniels handed over to him without a problem, although it did take a moment for someone to find it in a random storage closet in the medical wing.

Steve sits heavily on his couch and just stays for a moment with the package on his lap.

Finally, he opens it, pulls out a nicely worn red Henley.

Bucky had been wearing it when he found him in Romania. Clint gave them both fresh clothes when they made it to America but Bucky had put it on over his t-shirt – either cold or self-conscious of his arm, Steve isn’t sure.

Still.

He presses the cloth to his face and breathes it in. It smells like sweat and gunpowder.

It smells like Bucky.

Like the wool blankets they shared, sleeping on the ground in the European Theater or the scratchy sheets they slept on in their shitty apartment in ’41.

He’s instantly furious for a moment – at the world, at Bucky, at himself. But it’s useless and he deflates quickly. He holds the shirt to him while he looks through the rest of the bag – Bucky’s jeans, his t-shirt, his shoes and socks.

Bucky’s wallet is in the pocket of his jeans and Steve fumbles with it a moment before pulling it out.

He had several credit cards from different countries – America, France, Romania. A few IDs, each with a different name and country of origin. Some money – Euros, Rubles, American dollars and Romanian Leus.

Steve sets it on the table and wishes again that he had Bucky’s dogtags.

But those are long gone. Probably destroyed by HYDRA when they were remaking him.

Steve takes Bucky’s shirt and crawls into bed with it.

He falls asleep then and sleeps nearly two days straight.

 

XxX

 

He wakes up to Sam sitting on his bed, gently petting his hair.

He feels grimy, greasy from days without showering and his eyelashes stuck together with sleep.

“Hey,” Sam says and smiles at him a little watery. “I was worried about you.”

Steve stretches but otherwise doesn’t get up. “You get Zemo?”

“You know we did. I heard about your stand off with Fury and your run-in with Tony.”

Steve sinks a little lower into the blankets. “Fury wants me to be Captain America again.”

“Fury should mind his own business.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should go for a run with me and then come back here and shower and do your dishes because I went in your kitchen earlier and what the fuck Steve, and then maybe we can start talking about more complicated goals.”

Steve smiles at him. “You’re a good friend.”

 

XxX

 

They go to lunch in a busy café – Sam has this crazy idea that he can get Steve to enjoy life again.

Steve thinks he’s utterly insane.

Still. A couple of beers and a burger later and he feels less awful (unless he thinks about the fact the Bucky isn’t here to enjoy it with him and Bucky will never be here again and all Bucky ever got was the short end of the stick and seventy years of torture--)

The thing that derails this thought is a few people shuffling out after finishing their meal and Steve can suddenly hear the TV over the bar, muttering lowly to itself but loud enough for a supersoldier’s hearing to pick up.

“And where is Captain America now?” the pundit says over the din. “They choose this man, Steve Rogers, because he was supposed to be better than us, better than all of us, and yet, he’s gone now. We’ve all lost loved ones. Losing loved ones is part of being alive and all of us – all of us regular people – we still have to get up and do our jobs. None of us get to call off our responsibilities for the rest of our lives because someone died. That’s not very American. It’s lazy, it’s irresponsible and we need to stop thinking of Steve Rogers as some kind of hero and realize he’s just a man they beefed up in a lab. We have plenty of good soldiers and I’m sick of Captain America getting more credit than them…”

“I’m going to go,” Steve says and stands up abruptly.

He leaves before Sam can catch him and breaks into a sprint as soon as he’s outside.

 

XxX

 

Steve discovers that if you don’t care about speed limits, you can make it from Washington, DC to Brooklyn, NYC in three and a half hours.

It’s night by the time he gets to Bucky’s grave and he’s worked himself into an absolutely fury.

He wants to scream.

He doesn’t.

He does yell.

Right at Bucky’s headstone.

“Why do I have to do this?” he asks it. “You get to call it quits and I have to stay here and deal with this bullshit. They want me to just… to just pick up the SHIELD again and go back to being their dancing monkey like none of this was important. Like you were not important. Like how I feel about you isn’t important.

“And, goddamnit, Bucky, I did this once. I did. You died and I had one day to mourn you and then I put that stupid uniform back on and I did my job because it was the right thing to do.

“And they expect me to just do it again. To just… walk it off. I don’t want to, not now, not this time.”

He deflates a little.

“I’m so mad at you for leaving me alone here,” he says, quietly.

He looks over at his parents’ graves, he feels the weight of the world – all of history, it seems – bearing down on him. All of the things they missed, all of life they would never get to experience. The whole of it pressing down on his very bones.

“I don’t blame you,” he adds.

 

XxX

 

He rents a room in cash.

It’s some seedy place in a neighborhood not far from where he grew up.

He goes up to the room and drops the bag he brought with him on the bed before opening it up and pulling items out—

His notebook and pencils, Bucky’s shirt, his own dogtags, a bottle of sleeping pills (designed specifically for him after coming out of the ice and being unable to sleep), his toothbrush and a change of clothes.

He sits on the end of the bed with Bucky’s shirt in his hands. He must’ve worn it often, there is a small hole near the seam on one sleeve and the fabric over the elbows are thin.

He used to wear Bucky’s undershirts to bed back when he was all skin and bones. There was a few times he was wearing only one of Bucky’s undershirts when Bucky got home from work.

It’s strange, the way he remembers things now. He remembers everything – all the little details of his life. The way his childhood home smelt, the angle light would fall through the window above the pulpit at Church, the sound of bicycles down the street, the smell of Bucky’s aftershave when they were teenagers.

His whole life is suddenly crystal clear and in brilliant color in his mind and it feels close enough to touch but impossible to reach.

All of it centers around Bucky, like he was the Big Thing in Steve’s life that pulled him along to an unknown ending – Bucky keeping him company as a kid, Bucky keeping him safe, Bucky pulling him out of fights or patching him up after them, Bucky kissing him when they were sixteen and seventeen, tucked under the awning of an abandoned building, Bucky getting a flat and insisting Steve move in, Bucky deploying.

Bucky following him back into the war like Steve was his life’s Big Thing that pulled him forward to inevitable end.

They were irreparably tangled together, strings of fate that neither of them had any control over, but god, did he love that boy.

He thinks about that apartment in ’41 and Bucky naked save for a single sheet. He had one hand behind his head and the other one he beckoned Steve to him. Steve crawled up on the bed and straddled his waist, kissed him something fierce and Bucky smiled, cupped his hands down on Steve’s waist and said, “I love you.” He brushed a hand through Steve’s hair and said. “I want to keep you. You and me, Stevie, just like this.”

“What about your girls?” Steve asked, incredulously.

“Appearances. You’re the only one I need. I want to come home to you, every night. I’ll get a good job and rent us a nice place and it can be just like this until we are old and gray.”

“You’re full of it,” Steve said.

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed with his eyes twinkling, before pulling Steve into a kiss.

In the present, Steve takes one of his notebooks and opens it to a clean page and begins to write.

 

XxX

 

Steve folds up Bucky’s shirt and puts it back in his duffle. Next, he takes off his dogtags, looks at them one last time hanging from his hand and then lays them on top of his notebook, which he leaves on the bedside table.

He takes the bottle of pills and goes into the bathroom.

It’s tiny, clean but stained. The light over the sink is bright and unforgiving and he looks at himself in the mirror.

He’s not the young man Erskine locked into a capsule all those years ago. He’s not the man they woke up in the ice seventy years later. He’s not the man who set out to find Bucky in ’43 or 2014.

He’s someone else.

He’s someone he never thought he would be.

But, it’s all right; he’s not disappointed in himself. Everyone changes and he’s no exception.

He turns to the tub and switches the water on, waits for it to run warm before plugging it up.

Then he looks at the pills in the bottle and the cups next to the sink – two clear, plastic cups sealed individually in cellophane. He carefully unwraps one of them and fills it with water.

He then opens the pill bottle and dumps the contents on the counter.

They took his blood – SHEILD medical, the same people who killed Bucky – ran a bunch of tests on him when he first came out of the ice. Checked his blood flow and his breathing and wanted to study the serum. He didn’t really want them too but he found himself struggling to tell them no. So he let them take his blood.

He couldn’t sleep. The city was too loud, too bright, too different. His soul hurt too much, his heart too heavy, his head too restless.

One of SHIELD’s doctors made a sleeping pill strong enough to knock him out for 8 hours at a time and he slowly, slowly started putting himself together again. He found his place in the future and then, one day, he didn’t need a pill to fall asleep.

He takes four or five of them in the palm of his hand and meets his eye in the mirror and throws them into his mouth, chasing it with a sip of water.

He does that until there isn’t a pill left and sets the cup back down beside the sink.

The bathtub is full now, the water warm and still and he takes a breath before sitting in it, fully clothed. A little bit of it sloshes out and he leans back against the wall and listens to sounds around him – the hum of the light, a slow drip from the faucet, a car passing on the street below, the water lapping at his jeans while it settles.

This is the city he was born in. This is the city he wanted to return to. This is the city where Bucky promised they would live together till they died of old age.

It’s where he wants to die.

And he does. He wants to die.

He takes another breath and lets it out slowly, closes his eyes and slides down until his head slips under the surface.

 

XxX

 

 

XxX

 

“Steven Rogers, more commonly known as Captain America, died in an apparent suicide last night. His body was discovered in a hotel room in Brooklyn.

“Rogers’ husband, James Barnes, was executed last month after being found guilty on charges of murder and treason. The two were married earlier this year while Barnes sat on death row.

“At this time, none of the Avengers have responded to our requests for comments.”

Natasha shuts off the TV. “He drowned,” she says. She’s icy, unemotional in that way that usually means she’s very upset. “He took a bottle of sleeping pills and then drowned himself.They tried to resuscitate him but even Supersoldiers aren’t invincible.” 

Tony rubs at his face, his hand making a rough noise on his beard. “After reading that letter, I don’t blame him.”

“The news is blaming Bucky,” Clint says.

“Of course they are,” Tony says. He’s not making eye contact with anyone. “That’s easier than blaming us.”

“Do you blame us?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Tony says. “I think the only one I don’t blame is Barnes and Rogers.”

“We have to make sure he gets buried with Bucky,” Natasha says. 

“Yeah, I don’t need some self-righteous spangly-dressed bastard haunting my ass for the rest of eternity,” Tony agrees, getting up. “I’ll call a press conference.  We can’t let people sit in the dark for too long before conspiracy theories and copycat suicides start cropping up.”

 

XxX

 

“They say hindsight is 20/20,” Tony says when he takes the podium at the press conference they hold to discuss the nature of Steve’s death. “I feel that now more than ever.

“I grew up hearing stories about Cap. My father admired him and I think he wanted me to be like him. I often wish that I had been more like him, but we can’t help who we are.

“It’s no secret that Steve and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. We’ve had our disagreements through the years but I think, at the end of the day, we always agreed that we would do whatever it took to protect people. We believed that that was our purpose: to protect people.

“It’s easy to see now how I didn’t protect Steve. How I had just assumed that he would always put the mission first, put other people first. He always had before; I guess I didn’t expect that to change. But that’s not to say he did change, just that everyone, even Supersoldiers, have a limit.”

Tony pauses, staring at nothing for a moment before continuing.

“Steve wasn’t selfish. I know there are those who will call him selfish for taking his own life but I don’t think there has ever been a less-selfish man than Steve Rogers. This wasn’t an act of selfishness, this was the final act of a man who’d lived too long. Of a man who’d lost too much.

“They say you can never really go home again. I think that was true for Steve more than any other person. He was taken out of the ice after seventy years, brought to a world where he knew no one, no familiar faces and forced to recreate his entire life. Not only that, but we revered him as Captain America and created a giant role he was expected to fill.

“Steve never complained before, so I had assumed that he was happy in his role. That he wanted to continue to be Captain America in this century, like he was in the last. I wish now that I hadn’t assumed. I wish I had asked. I should have asked.”

Tony is quiet again for a moment, the reports silent with him, waiting to see what he’ll say next. He stares down at the podium for a minute before continuing.

“I’ve spoken the SHIELD agents who were guarding Barnes’ before his execution. He had a back injury that limited his mobility in addition to his missing arm. Steve surrendered his freedom, his position as Captain America, to be allowed to care for Barnes.

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot these past few days. Steve never told me much about Bucky or his time before going into the ice, but I realize, I also never asked. You know, actions speak louder than words and I know now that Barnes was worth everything to Steve and I never asked him about Bucky. I never asked him why he loved him or what he loved about him but, apparently, he loved him enough to give up his life’s work for him. To give up his life for him. I don’t think everyone has a love like that in their life and it’s a shame that now I will never get to ask him what a love like that feels like.”

Tony walks off without taking any questions.

 

XxX

 

They hold a quiet, private funeral for Steve Rogers at the same church in Brooklyn where Steve had arranged Bucky’s funeral.

Almost the exact same people turn out – relatives of the Howlies, agents of SHIELD, veterans he met at the VA and the Avengers.

But the next day, there is a public memorial service on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

Thousands of people turn out, filling the entire National Mall. There are cards and candles and flowers left along the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial. People come and cry and share stories of Captain America and why they admired him.

In the late afternoon, it begins to rain but, somehow, that feels right – like the earth itself is mourning.

The crowds don’t clear out for days. Many go to Brooklyn, to see the neighborhood Steve and Bucky grew up in, to see the spot where Steve died, to lay flowers on their graves. To remember who they were, what they stood for, what happened to them.

It’s the end of an era –

The rain stops.

The flowers wilt.

The cards are cleaned up.

The Avengers save the world from a new disaster, learning how to work without Steve.

Slowly, eventually, people stop coming to visit the grave of Captain America and his ex-assassin husband. Their lives slowly fade from the public eye – a footnote in the history books, a memory slipping to the back of the mind.

And the world continues.

While Steve and Bucky, finally, lay peacefully side-by-side, in a place where no one can touch them or take them from each other.


	5. Postscript

From the journal of Steven Grant Rogers:

_June 20th, 2017_

_ I don’t know where to start. _

_ I know you all want to know why this happened, why would I do this to myself? _

_ That is a question that is difficult to answer. _

_ It is easy to say, this happened because Bucky is dead and gone and I loved him. _

_ I loved him more than I could tell you. _

_ But let me explain. _

_ I met Bucky in 1924, when we were just children. We grew up together, in Brooklyn, in the Depression. _

_ It wasn’t easy by any means but, sometimes, I think with the right company, you can get through almost anything. And Bucky? He always looked out for me. _

_ In 1934, I realized I was in love with him. And that I didn’t love him as a brother or as a friend. No, I loved him in that all-consuming way that poets write about. I wanted to wake up next to him and fall asleep next to him every day for the rest of my life. _

_ Of course, it was 1934 and I didn’t know men could feel that way about other men. I assumed there was something wrong with me, something broken. I had frail lungs and a weak heart, brittle bones and dull eyesight. I wasn’t surprised that I was sick all the way down to my soul. _

_ But, in 1936, I learned that Bucky loved me back. _

_ I’ve had many surprises in my life, but I still think that was the biggest one. _

_ Young, smart, handsome Bucky Barnes loved me. _

_ That was the first time I thought maybe I wasn’t sick and broken all the way through my body and soul. To me, Bucky was the perfect picture of health. I thought if he was the same way, there was nothing wrong with me because, of course, there was nothing wrong with Bucky. _

_ It was the depression and work was hard to find and we often went to bed hungry. Our clothes were falling apart and we had no hot water but somehow, I look back and think of that as the happiest time of my life. _

_ It was like a honeymoon. We traded our single beds in for a double and slept next to each other every night, him on the left and me on the right and moonlight filling the spaces between. _

_ I wanted it to be like that forever. Me and him and that shithole flat, doing our best not to starve to death. _

_ Then, the war came and Bucky’s draft letter with it. _

_ I couldn’t stand by. Not just because Bucky was going, but because serving was the right thing to do.  The war reached far and wide and devastated everything. I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting around our apartment and just waiting for it to be over. No, I had to be a part of it. I had to serve. _

_ The rest you know because the rest went down in history. _

_ I joined the army and Erskine made me Captain America. _

_ And you know I rescued Bucky and the rest of the Howlies from a POW camp and walked them all the way back to Allied territory. _

_ There are lots of little things from the war I carry with me still. Things the history books won’t tell you, like the way it felt to build camp after a long day, or the smell of Alpine snow while you lay low. _

_ Or, crawling into a tent with Bucky after walking miles across Europe. _

_ He always had my six. _

_ There are things in war that stick with you. You can’t take in the full horror of the war, you can’t handle it. It’s too bloody and too messy and too incomprehensible. So your mind captures pieces and keeps those, like horrible mementos from a time and place you wish you could forget. _

_ They are different for everyone. Maybe a friend dying, a dear-John letter, a burned out village, or the first time you realize you’ve killed a man. _

_ For Bucky, it was the farm girl. _

_ We’d come across this farmstead being held by a few Nazis in Italy. We killed most of them, no problem, but the officer holed himself up the barn with the farmer’s daughter – a beautiful young woman. _

_ We couldn’t save her. He slit her open left her dead on the floor like an unwanted animal. _

_ Bucky took that officer outside and shot him in the head like a rabid dog. _

_ The thing is – that officer was cornered. And he knew it. He was as good as dead regardless of what happened to the farm girl. _

_ But he killed her anyway. _

_ As a soldier and an Avenger, I think the hardest part is accepting that you can do everything right and innocent people will still get killed. _

_ We are not all-powerful and we cannot save everyone. All we can do is try to save as many as we can. _

_ It’s easy to know this truth but impossible to accept it. And, somehow, it’s worse to know that someone has harmed an innocent person for the mere sake of hurting you. _

_ Because that’s why that farm girl died. Not because she had to, not because she knew something or had done something. _

_ She died because that officer knew it would upset us to see her dead like that. _

_ James Buchanan Barnes never harmed an innocent person in his life. He was careful and thorough and brilliant and I understand why HYDRA chose him for those reasons. But he never harmed an innocent person. _

_ The Winter Soldier, however, has killed many innocent people. That’s what he was designed for and he fulfilled his mission perfectly. _

_ The world has already made up its mind that the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes are one in the same. _

_ There’s nothing I can do or say to change that. They’ve heard from the doctors. They’ve seen the equipment that was used on him. There have been numerous testimonies stating that he had no agency for the seventy years HYDRA had him. _

_ And still, the world believed he wanted to do those things. Still they held him accountable for those actions. _

_ In a way, I don’t blame them. Because, after that officer killed that girl, we wanted to blame someone too. We sat around our fire that night and blamed ourselves. We kept asking what we could have done differently, what we should have done differently. _

_ It’s easy to second-guess the past. _

_ We know now that Zemo wanted to destroy the Avengers. _

_ The easiest way to do that was to not kill us with brute strength but get us to divide ourselves by quarrelling. _

_ Maybe we would have done things differently if we had known that before. _

_ Maybe Bucky wouldn’t have been held accountable for all of HYDRA’s sins over the past century. _

_ I couldn’t tell you. _

_ What I can tell you is that, in all this, Bucky was the innocent one. _

_ He was like that farm girl. _

_ He is the one Zemo targeted to hurt me. To move me away from the Avengers, to destroy our team. _

_ I hate to admit defeat, but Zemo’s plan worked. The Avengers are in shambles and I don’t want to go on. _

_ I know many people will think this is an act of cowardice. Or that it is the behavior of the sick or weak willed. _

_ I do not seek to make anyone understand. I am simply telling you what has happened to me. _

_ The love of my life died in 1944. _

_ Bucky always had my back. I rescued him from a POW camp and he followed me right back into the war. He never faltered or complained. He was always steady, a sharp shooter with a good heart and a clear mind. He saved me more times than I could tell you. _

_ And the one time he needed me to save him,  I couldn’t. I couldn’t pull him back onto that train and it’s been the biggest regret of my life. _

_ I failed Bucky in ’44. _

_ Like I said, there are many things I would do differently and not a day goes by that I don’t wish I hadn’t jumped off that train after him. _

_ But that doesn’t matter now. _

_ The love of my life died in 1944 and there was a war on and I had made a promise to stop HYDRA, so I kept fighting. I swallowed all my sorrow and I put my uniform on and I killed every member of HYDRA I could find. _

_ I took down Red Skull and it didn’t matter that I died doing it because it was the right thing to do. It had nothing to do with Bucky’s death. I was not on a suicide mission then, I just knew it was my life or countless others. So I did what I had to do to keep other people safe. _

_ When they woke me up in 2012, I was not prepared to pick up where I left off. Everything was new and I was miserable. _

_ But after the attack on New York, I realized, I still had a duty. It didn’t matter that I was seventy years in the future. I was still a soldier. I had still sworn to protect people. _

_ So I put the suit back on and I picked the shield back up and I did my best to keep the world safe. _

_ I did my best to move on from my past, to heal from all that loss. _

_ I feel, at times, the world forgets that I lost everything and everyone. I don’t want pity and I don’t even want sympathy, but I do want you to remember that I woke up alone nearly a century after I thought I’d died. But I decided to make the best of it. I decided to build a new life. _

_ But everything changed when I learned Bucky was alive.  _

_ I wasn’t about to abandon my duties, but, at the same time, I had to save Bucky. I had to find him and bring him home. He was a prisoner of war again. He was being harmed and I couldn’t stand by and let anyone live through that level of torture, yet alone the man I loved. _

_ But I failed again. _

_ I could not save Bucky. I could not keep him safe. I couldn’t do it in the 40’s and I didn’t do it now. _

_ I know that people look up to Captain America. I am proud to have been the sort of person that people wanted to emulate but, the truth is that I’m not Captain America. _

_ I’m Steve Rogers. I’m a skinny, sick, queer kid from Brooklyn who is in love with his best friend. _

_ I lost him once. I lost him and I did what was right – I kept fighting. _

_ Now the world expects me to do it again. _

_ They expect me to walk off the death of the man I love and keep carrying the shield and be silent about my pain. _

_ I can’t do it. _

_ You have asked too much of me. _

_ History has never known a love like ours before. And may history never know a love like ours again. Because other men who died in the war, you left them alone. You laid them into the ground and let them rest. And the men and women who loved them, never forgot them, of course not, but they learned how to live without them. They had time and space to heal as much as one can from a loss and were able to rebuild their lives. _

_ Me? I kept fighting. I never got a chance to mourn Bucky. I never got closure. And then, when I died, the world dug me up and made me fight again. _

_ You are asking me to live without him twice. You are asking me to keep fighting for everyone after losing everything, twice. _

_ I am sorry, I cannot do it. A heart can only hold so much and mine has been fragile for a long time. All my family, all the men I served with, all my friends from Brooklyn -  they are all dead. _

_ And now my husband too. _

_ I tried to build new relationships here in the future. The Avengers and many people at SHIELD have become very dear to me. I am sorry to put you all through this, but in light of recent developments, I’ve realized that I am unable to go on. _

_ Regardless, I don’t want anyone to blame themselves. I made this decision on my own after much reflection. _

_ I know Bucky wouldn’t approve but he’s not here to disapprove. _

_ Now, before I make my final goodbyes, I have a few requests – _

_ Sam should have the shield. He’s steadfast, loyal, kind, levelheaded. All the things Captain America should be and I know the country still has a need for Captain America. I just am no longer the man to fulfill that duty. _

_ Tony, you need to keep the Avengers together. The Avengers are yours, perhaps even more than they ever were mine. The world needs the Avengers and the Avengers need you. Whatever happened between us is in the past now. There is still a lot of good the Avengers can do, even without me -  don’t lose sight of that.  _

_ Please, bury me next to Bucky. _

_ I never got over losing him in the Alps. I always ached with the knowledge that he would never be laid to rest, never have a headstone or a funeral. Well, Bucky has those things now. _

_ Our time together was far too short, a few years when we were young and a few months together in the future. So, bury me next to him. I couldn’t keep him from suffering in life but I can keep him company in death. _

_ Lastly, don’t let anyone forget that he was my husband; that I loved him and he was worthy of that love. There never would have been a Captain America had there not been a James Buchanan Barnes, because he kept me alive in ways that are impossible to say. _

_ I lived without him once, I refuse to do it twice, even though I am sorry that it has come down to this. I’ve lived longer than I should have already, I believe I have the right to take my leave. _

_ This is the end of the line for me. _

_ -Steven Grant Rogers _

 

_ _

**Author's Note:**

> There is now a Chinese translation of the story [here.](http://kun-aloys.lofter.com/post/1eb5b1f8_ee6e762c)
> 
> Elendrien is on [tumblr.](https://elendrien.tumblr.com/)  
> And I am on [tumblr](http://thedarkcaustic.tumblr.com/) as well.


End file.
